Finding Home
by eys1214
Summary: Reeling from a broken heart, Eric enlists Pam's aid to help him blow off some steam. What if instead of forgetting his heartache, he ends up finding another one? AH, AU
1. Chapter 1

There was something cathartic in watching the night sky.

Eric leaned back, resting the back of his head against the soft, tan leather headrest and let out an audible sigh.

It had been two weeks. Two weeks since the night she marched into his office in the middle of the night and returned the engagement ring he had given her three years ago.

" _I'm leaving you."_

She was done waiting, she said. She was tired of playing second fiddle to his job.

" _What the hell are you doing?"_

" _What I should have done years ago."_

Then she was gone.

Eric didn't go after her. This wasn't a goddamn movie. Going after her would only send the wrong message. If there was anything his spiteful father had taught him it was never to yield.

 _A Northman bows to no one._

Besides, Eric knew she'd be back. How many times had they done this song-and-dance before? How many times had she threatened to run off? He lost count after the first dozen.

She would never leave him simply because she couldn't. He'd give her a day - hell, he'd even throw in a couple more for good measure – to come to her senses and crawl back to him with her tail between her oh-so creamy legs.

 _She'll be back,_ he kept telling himself.

He thrust his hand in his pocket and felt the cool round metal that he had been carrying around like a lovesick fool for weeks. Remembering the day he gave it to her, he could feel the cold fingers of loneliness slowly gripping his spine.

* * *

" _I love it."_

He could already tell she didn't. She had never been a good liar.

" _You could exchange it if you want."_

She squealed and frenched him like only a French woman could. _"Now I love it even more!"_

The morning after he proposed, she dragged him back to Harry Winston and got the ring she wanted.

He took out the platinum band and held it up. The four-carat emerald cut diamond winked at him when it hit the overhead lamp of the jet.

How could she throw away four years just like that? Wasn't it enough that he asked her to marry him? He wasn't the type of man who made many promises, but by God, he stood by the ones he made. His word was his bond. She should have known that by now.

* * *

" _Have you heard?"_

Pam asked him yesterday after their daily morning briefing in his office. Pamela 'Pam' Ravenscroft was his lesbian best friend and one of the few people who believed him when everyone doubted. She was also his business partner, the Chief Operating Officer of the Northman Cap - the stock insurance firm he had been working on for the past three years.

" _Heard what?"_

" _Her fifth avenue apartment in the upper east side is already on the market."_

His fists clenched under the massive mahogany desk, away from Pam's prying gaze. He didn't offer a response as his heart sank. He wondered how many suitcases she filled up to pack up four years of her life in New York to move back to her hometown.

It wasn't supposed to end like this.

 _What are you doing Sylvie?_

"Y _ou okay chief?"_

Taking a deep breath, he plastered on his trademark lopsided smirk and raised his eyes to Pam. " _Peachy_ ," he quipped as he picked up his mobile tablet. " _I do have some questions though. Have you taken a look at our book today? There seems to be some discrepancies in the new logs_."

" _What kind of discrepancies_?"

Eric shot her a disappointed look as he handed her his tablet. " _Look at this."_ His finger skating on the screen. _"I distinctly remember signing up three new clients last week but I still don't see them listed here_."

" _I see_."

" _Do you, Pam? Or are you too busy playing house with Miriam?_ "

" _Now that's not fair Eric_."

His hands slammed against the desk. Two weeks of stewing and it seemed he finally reached his tipping point. How could Pam be so reckless? So stupidly irresponsible. This fucking job had cost him so much. So fucking much.

" _No,_ this _is not fair,"_ he exploded. _"We're going public in two weeks, Pamela. You know how hard I've worked to build this company. You know what's at stake. We're an insurance firm for fuck's sake, if we can't account for all the funds coming in how can we possibly expect the clients to trust us to handle their stocks_."

" _Fine!_ " Pam's tone matched his. " _I'll get to it. And while I'm doing that, why don't you do us all a favor and get that big stick out of your ass_."

" _What did you say?_ "

" _You heard me. C'mon, Eric, you want transparency, why don't we start with that big ass elephant that we kept circling around_." Pam's hands were also flat against the table as her face inched closer to his. " _What're you going to do about her?_ "

Eric's lips thinned. " _I don't know what you mean._ "

Pam backed away so she could tower over him. " _Get. Her. Back_."

Shaking his head he picked up his iPad and stared at the numbers on the screen. " _She left on her own, she can return on her own_."

" _You're not even gonna call her?_ "

" _To say what? Beg her to take me back?_ " He snapped his head. " _Sorry, but begging isn't in my DNA_."

 _Cruelty, perhaps,_ he thought derisively.

" _You're my friend, Eric, that's why I feel like I owe it to you to be brutally honest."_

Between them, there was no other form of honesty.

" _I know you're hurting, even if you don't admit it."_ Pam sat down, her beautiful, and usually composed and expressionless, face crumbling with concern. " _But can you really blame her for leaving? You've dangled the carrot in front of her for three long years. I'm actually surprised she didn't leave you sooner."_

 _"I proposed to her."_

 _"Yeah, three years ago. I've heard of long engagements but goddammit three years is not only ridiculous, its fucking insulting."_

He shot Pam a skewering glare but his associate refused to budge.

" _Go after her Eric. She's probably raiding her father's cellar by now, drowning in France's finest."_

 _Fucking Sylvie._

He stayed silent. Raised by a family of winemakers, Sylvie Leclerq had surely mastered the art of going on a bender. Perhaps it was time to adapt the same principle.

After a brief stare down with his second-in-command, he dropped his gaze back to his tablet and said, _"Fine, book me a flight."_

Pam's face lit up. She liked winning arguments, especially against him.

" _I think I can get you a last-minute ticket to Paris tonight. Do you mind flying coach?"_

" _No."_ He shook his head without looking up.

" _Spoiled ass."_

" _No, I'm not going to France."_

Pam arched her brow.

" _Where, pray tell, are you going then?"_

" _You choose. Surprise me. But keep it domestic. I just want to blow off some steam."_

Pam put a hand on her hip, her fingers drumming rhythmically as she observed him. Then, ever so slowly, her lips curved into a smile, baring a perfect set of white teeth.

" _Okay,"_ she hummed. _"Y'know what, why don't I bring out the big guns and charter you a jet. I'll have Sandy arrange your accommodations. Oh and Eric, pack light."_

* * *

"Mr. Northman?" the flight attendant, whose name he didn't bother to ask, jolted him out of his musings. "Please put your seatbelt back on, we're about to start our descent to Caddo airport."

 _Caddo?_

He blinked back his confusion. Was there another airport in New Orleans aside from Louis Armstrong? When he boarded the jet and found out they were flying to Louisiana, he assumed the pilot meant Nola. Although he wasn't ecstatic to spend his vacation in Big Easy, he decided to go with it anyway. It could be so much worse.

"Where are we?" he asked the attendant.

"Louisiana, sir. Shreveport, Louisiana."

Fuck. It _was_ so much worse.

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric**.

 **Yes, I started a new fic without updating my WIPs. The muses for those WIPs were bitching while I couldn't get the one for this to shut up. Unlike my other WIPs, I've already lined up a few drafts for this and I would be posting regularly.**

 **I hope you guys will indulge me again. I've missed fanfic. I've missed Eric/Sookie. But most of all I missed y'all.**

 **As always, pardon the mistakes. I'll post a cleaner version later on my [wordpress] site. Love, love, love!**


	2. Chapter 2

Eric felt abducted.

Of all the hellish places in all fifty fucking states, Pam chose Shreveport, Louisiana. _Shreveport_.

He wanted to vent his rage on the pilot and the two flight attendants as soon as their plane landed in Caddo airport, but he managed to rein his anger in. It wasn't their fault. It was his absolute, and apparently misplaced, trust on Pam that brought him in this god-forsaken place.

He _was_ surprised, he'd give her that. But fuck, Shreveport? When Pam said 'pack light', he was thinking more like South Beach, not South bitch.

"Louisiana?" Eric whisper-yelled at his cell as he sat in the back of a taxi in the middle of the night on his way to his hotel – at least he hoped it was a hotel and not just some kitschy Southern B&B.

"What? You said I could choose?" Pam sing-songed in the other line. "I know you like I know my Chanel, Eric. If you're going to blow off some steam I expect fireworks. And I cannot have you making a fool of yourself where people can recognize you. 'Sides, according to TripAdvisor, Shreveport is the Manhattan of Louisiana. It's like you never left home."

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Thoroughly." He could hear the giddiness in her voice. "Maybe after spending a few days there you'd finally figure your ass from your elbow."

 _Shit._

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Eric took a deep calming breath.

"Oh Pamela. Pamela, Pamela, Pamela," he crooned, injecting a healthy dose of flippancy in his tone. "If you have any idea what fresh hell I have in store for you when I get back…"

"Eric, I'm losing you. Bad reception," Pam cut him off. He could hear her perfectly. The only thing bad was her acting. "Got to go, chief, see you in a few!" Then the line went silent.

"Goddamit!" he gritted out as he shoved his phone in his knapsack – the only piece of luggage he brought.

The taxi driver peered at him through the rear view mirror and Eric skewered him with a glare. The driver, a balding man in his late forties with a bad case of B.O., shrugged and trained his gaze back on the road as he drove in silence. A few minutes later he pulled over.

"We're here. _Majestueuse Maison_ ," the driver said in his eye-cringing French.

Eric's stomach plummeted to his feet as he stared at the derelict housing. He would give both his balls to the devil to have Pam in front him right now just so he could pull her nails one by one.

"This is _Majestueuse Maison_?" _Please say no_ , he prayed. _Please say you made a mistake and heard me wrong_.

"The one and only," the driver grumbled with another offhanded shrug.

When Pam texted him the name of the hotel she booked him in he thought it was a bit on the nose with the French thing, now he knew it wasn't just on the nose, it was a fucking carbuncle.

"I changed my mind," Eric said while shaking his head. No way in hell he'd stay there tonight. "Take me to the nearest hotel instead. Somewhere clean, where I won't have to share a bed with _varmints_."

The lines on the driver's forehead creased and deepened as his mouth formed into a scowl. "Y'all Yankees c'mere and think your shit don't stink, eh? We'll…" His middle finger finished the rest of his sentence.

Eric was gobsmacked. Normally, he would come up with a better retort but he remembered this wasn't his turf. He might have gone too far with _'varmint'_ and he was man enough to admit his mistake. So without another word he fished out a few bills from his wallet and climbed out of the cab.

 _Majestueuse Maison_ literally meant Majestic House in French. There was nothing remotely majestic about this house. It was a red brick-clad abomination with its moldy walls, cracked windows and the misspelled graffiti on the wall by the side entrance. It was Bates Motel's hideous cousin. And with his luck he'd be the blonde who would get stabbed in the shower.

* * *

 **E/S**

Trying to get a cab in the middle of nowhere was like watching paint dry - futile and exasperating. He never should have insulted his cabbie. It seemed what the taxi driver lacked in hair and personal hygiene he made up for pride. Eric, of all people, should know how to respect the almighty ego.

An hour later – which seemed like decades in Louisiana time - Eric threw in the towel. Dragging his feet, he started navigating the lonely – not to mention creepy—path to hell. He passed by a couple of motels, both were no better than Bates Motel one-point-oh. He contemplated calling Pam to ask for help but his ego wouldn't let him. He was a grown-ass man, for fuck's sake, sending an SOS to Pam would only give her satisfaction.

Puffing up his chest, he soldiered on. A little adventure wouldn't hurt.

He spotted a 24-hour diner, Big Al's Caf (the 'e' at the end had been busted). He could use some hot coffee. He was about to go in when something from across the street caught his attention.

He swore he almost cried when he saw the big red flashing sign: _Fantasia_. He jogged across the street to get a better look. There was no one by the door – no line of customers, not even a bouncer to greet him. In retrospect, that should have been his first clue that this joint was no good.

Taking a closer inspection, he found a door at the side. It was almost missable because it had the same color as the walls: black. Hanging beside the door was a small poster of a woman in black leather tights and bustier, under the photo – right across her navel were the words: _Fantasia, where your wildest dreams come to life_.

 _Classy_.

Even if this was the worst strip club he had ever seen it would still be way better than Big Al's Cafe. For one, he was certain there would be libation, among other things that ended with –tion.

He was right, though. It _was_ the worst joint club he had ever set foot in.

As soon as he pushed the door in, the loud music from the speaker screwed against the walls battered his ear drums. He had to blink rapidly to be able to adjust to the darkness that greeted him. The entire room was muggy from cigarette smoke. He could feel his lungs shrinking with every breath he took.

 _Fuck._ He didn't realize people were still allowed to smoke indoors.

A few heads whipped in his direction. Trying hard not to draw too much attention, he kept his head low as he searched for the bar. It didn't take much to spot the bar opposite the entrance as it was the only corner that had lights on. Like a moth towards the flame he hurried to the liquor stand. As he made his way across the room he almost tripped over the pole in the middle of what he assumed was dance floor. Then just as he reached the bar, a red beam flashed like a spotlight from the ceiling illuminating the tiny dais, where a barely-clad woman started grinding and gyrating to the tune of 'Lips of an Angel'.

 _Kill me now._

Ignoring the whistling and hooting from the customers at the back, he dashed toward an empty high stool by the counter. With as much subtlety he as could muster he grazed his elbow against one of the red cushioned stools to test for any sticky or wet substance. Mercifully, it was dry, uncomfortably warm, but nevertheless dry. There was only one other customer at the bar and because he wanted to put as much distance from him he put his backpack in the middle seat.

Settling in, he was greeted by a woman with bleached blonde hair who wore way too much make-up.

"Hiya!" she chirped in her shrilly voice. She looked way too energetic for her age. Judging from the deep lines around her neck, she was well past her prime but was still in denial. "What can I do you for gorgeous?"

Eric ignored the cheeky barmaid and went on to study the selection of liquors on the top shelf. Nothing impressive as expected.

"Beer or bourbon are your best bets here, bud," offered the man sitting two seats from his left.

Eric cast a sideway glance and to his surprise the guy didn't look half as bad as the bar's usual clientele – for one, he wasn't wearing flannel and Timberlands. His opinionated companion, in a gray v-neck and denim jeans, raised his Bud Light to him and grinned. Eric couldn't help but return the gesture with a tip of his head. There was something affable about Bud Light and his messy, dark blonde hair and warm brown eyes.

For a fleeting second, Eric felt a nervous chill at the idea that he had somehow went into a different kind of stripjoint. Looking over his shoulder, Eric did a quick recon. It seemed business wasn't booming for Fantasia as Eric counted eight heads, five of them belonged to the ladies in tight leather spandex.

 _Whew!_

"So what's it gonna be sugar?" the bartender asked, flashing him her cleavage on top of her tight bustier. The sight didn't even give him a tiny stir in his pants.

"Two shots of bourbon and a glass of Merlot," Eric placed his order.

Bud Light and Bleach Blonde exchanged a look before the latter started pouring his bourbon.

She reached for a stemmed glass on top of the shelf. The glass was so dusty that she to run it over the tap under the counter and wipe it dry. "You expectin' company, hon?"

Eric shook his head. It was a force of habit - something he had been doing for the past five years.

"Mind if I make a suggestion?"

 _Yes. I do mind_. He wasn't really in the mood to take unsolicited advice.

"Start with this," said the barmaid as she slid the glass of bourbon in front of him before she leaned forward – giving him another peek in case he missed the first show. Trying to avoid the peepshow, he caught her name tag instead: _Ginger_.

Ginger pushed the glass of red next to the liquor and husked, "Then finish off with the red." Her voice had been altered from shrilly to raspy, which was quite a talent but not at all titillating.

"Uh-oh watch out, Geenj is using her Kathleen Turner-impression. She must really like you man," teased Bud Light.

"Shut up, Jase!" Ginger shrieked and threw a handful of mixed nuts at Bud Light, making the customer snigger.

Eric had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes. The scene was too 'Cheers' for his taste and the banter between the two were getting in the way of his supposed bender.

"Cris!" Ginger yelled, summoning the woman with yet another bleach blonde hair, sitting with two other spandex ladies from the table closest to the bar. Cris, also known as Spandex One, stood up, smoothed out her leather pants and pushed up her bustier before she strutted toward the bar in her red fuck-me heels and gave Bud Light an open-mouthed kiss.

"Can you please tell your boyfriend not to make fun of me in front of my customers?" Ginger whined as she ditched her scratchy voice.

"I _am_ your customer," Bud Light tried to reason as he pulled Spandex One onto his lap. She leaned farther in and mumbled something inaudible to Eric which earned her a booming guffaw from Bud Light.

Eric could barely hear their blathering amid the grating sound system and honestly, he'd like to keep it that way. He sipped his bourbon and tried to drown the humorless sitcom in the background. He didn't come here for Fantasia's tacky décor, questionable ambience and cheap show. He came here for the booze.

"Oy Crystal!" growled someone from the back. Eric checked out the newcomer from his reflection in the shelf mirror. Even with the dim-lighting he could see the man's potbelly and black, greasy hair. Eric could spot a douche bag from a mile away, and this man with his brown bowling shirt was like a bad Charlie Sheen wannabe.

The man closed in on the couple and from Eric's periphery he could detect the man's trimmed moustache twitching as he towered over Bud Light and Spandex One. "What time is it?"

It seemed like a rhetorical question because Eric was almost blinded by the glimmer of the gold 'Rolex' around the man's meaty wrist.

 _Don't answer it, Bud._

Bud Light kept his mouth shut and Eric sent him a mental high-five.

"Nine thirty," Spandex One replied.

 _Ugh, so close._ Eric almost felt bad for them.

"Which means you're still on the clock, aren't ya? Then what in shit's name are you doin' dry humpin' this limpdick?"

Eric couldn't help but sneak a glance at Bud Light. No self-respecting man should take that kind of smack without at least hurling something back. To Eric's bewilderment, not to mention dismay, Bud Light just kept his head down with one hand on the small of his girlfriend's back and the other clutching his right thigh.

"Sorry Al," grumbled Spandex One.

 _Al? As in Big Al?_ Eric didn't know what to do with that new information so he chucked it in his Big Vault of Useless Facts.

Spandex One straightened up and turned to Bud Light, "No need to wait up for me babe; Geenj'll give me a ride home, 'kay?" She gave him a quick peck on the cheek which earned them another loud grunt from Big Al.

The fat fuck threw one more glare at Bud Light before he spun his huge belly and marched to the hallway at the side of the bar.

The awkwardness that followed was palpable. Even the aggravating music wasn't loud enough to fill the proverbial silence.

Eric raised his hand and asked Ginger for a refill. Bud Light, whose warm schoolboy grin was long gone, was quietly engaged in a staring contest with the beer bottle in his hand.

"Ginger," Eric motioned to the unusually silent bartender, "One more bourbon please."

Ginger furrowed her thin manicured eyebrows and Eric answered her soundless query with a nudge of his head to the left. The barmaid understood quickly as she flashed him a smile and placed another glass in front of Bud light.

"What's this?" asked Bud Light as he stared at the dark amber liquid trickling in the glass.

"Courtesy of my soon-to-be lover," Ginger tried to keep her voice down but Eric managed to read her lips.

 _Man, Bleach Blonde sure had a sense of humor – and fighting spirit._ But just to be on the safe side maybe he should keep an eye for any signs of roofie.

Bud Light chuckled and turned to Eric. "Thanks, bro," he said, raising his glass to him. Alcohol, it seemed, was still a potent social lubricant.

Eric replied with a one-shoulder shrug. "He's an asshole."

Bud Light took a sip of his free drink, winced and then wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "He's not an asshole. He's the thing that comes out of assholes."

Eric laughed at that. Nothing bonds two grown men better than mutual disgust.

Bud Light slid out of his stool and pointed to Eric's knapsack. "D'you mind?"

Eric actually wanted to keep Bud Light at arm's length but after what the man had been through Eric couldn't bear to say no. He picked up his bag and transferred it to the empty seat on his right. Bud Light hopped onto the stool next to his. Eric noticed a slight hitch in Bud Light's step. He chalked it up to booze.

"Jason," Bud Light mumbled, offering his hand.

For a brief moment, he contemplated making up a name but decided against it. The hell with it, the probability of seeing Jason again was slim to none.

"Eric," he replied as he shook Jason's clammy hand.

"Tourist?"

"Just passing through."

"Does he always talk that way to customers?" Eric asked. He didn't need to drop the fat fuck's name, Jason knew who he meant.

"Nah. It's just me. He thinks I'm distracting Crystal from her job."

"Big Al's all bark and no bite." Ginger chimed in. "'Sides he can't throw you out of 'ere, can he Jase?"

"Damn straight." Jason winked at Ginger then chugged his drink.

"Why's that?"

"Because Big Al has the hots for Jase's sister."

Jason groaned, as if the idea was too disgusting to be spoken out loud.

Eric let the last comment hang in the air as he filed that tidbit into the Big Vault of Useless Facts.

"Are you gonna drink that?" Jason asked pointing his chin to the warm glass of red.

"It's for my brother."

"Oh yeah? He's comin' here too?"

"He's dead," Eric replied with a tone that most people found casually cruel as he raised his glass to his lips to hide the sudden tremor of his hand.

Jason, who was sipping his drink, coughed out loud and spat most of his drink at Ginger.

"Shit, Geenj, sorry!" Jason blurted at the barmaid who spat out a slew of curses. "Your brother's dead?" he turned to Eric.

"Five years and counting." _Thanks to me._

"Sorry man."

Eric shrugged, regretting his decision to bring Godric up. Fortunately Jason let go of the conversational tangent as the two of them fell into comfortable silence while they downed the rest of their drinks.

"One more round?" Eric asked.

"Nah, I'm way over my quota. If I go home stinkin' my sister's gonna kill me."

Again with the mysterious sister.

"You live with your sister?"

Jason nodded meekly. "We live in our Gran's house. She left it to us when she passed on last year. I'm savin' up for my own place and she's savin' up for college."

Eric nodded as if he understood but to be honest, he really didn't give a shit.

"Where're you headin' by the way?"

"New Orleans," Eric lied.

"Nola, now that's a party."

"Speaking of party, Ginger, how about another round?" Eric asked the conspicuously quiet bartender. "What do you say Jason, one more for the road?"

Jason looked torn but like any other guys Eric knew, he wasn't strong enough to resist the allure of free booze. "Ah, hell. Hit me Geenj."

Ginger gave Jason a disapproving glare as she topped up their glasses. "She's not gonna like this Jase," she tsked. Eric wasn't sure who Ginger meant: the girlfriend or the sister?

Three 'for the road' later. Jason finally found his missing pair of balls.

"Y'know one day," Jason started, slurring as he waved his fingers in the air. "I'm gonna beat the crap out of that fucktard, grab my girl, walk outta this dump and never look back."

Eric looked at Jason with honest curiosity. There was something Dickensian about the man and although he couldn't particularly relate to his problems, he could surely empathize.

"Sounds like a plan."

"No, man." Jason wiggled his finger at him. "That's _the_ dream."

Eric's lips tugged into a rare smile. "To the dream then," he said lifting his drink. He, too, was a more than just tipsy.

Jason mimicked the gesture and they both downed their liquor. Jason hissed as he slammed his glass down a little louder than he should have.

"How 'bout you, man?" He elbowed Eric. "What's _the_ dream?"

 _Fuck no_ , he thought, shaking his head. He hadn't imbibed enough alcohol yet to get that sentimental.

Jason kept staring at him, waiting for his response. Ginger, who had been eye-fucking him since the moment he sat down, was also hanging on to his every word.

 _What the hell. When in Rome, right?_

"My dream…" he began, leaning forward so that Ginger wouldn't have to crane her neck to eavesdrop. "Is to find the girl of my fucking dreams."

"Attaboy!" Jason slapped his back while grinning at Ginger. "You came to the right place my friend. Welcome to Fantasia, where your wildest dreams come to life."

He seriously doubted that. The only thing this shithole had to offer was STD.

Jason flung his arm around his shoulder and forced him to turn around. "Look around, bubba. Who knows the girl of your fuckin' dreams might just walk right through that door."

Then, as though Jason had magically willed it, the front door burst open as a petite blonde in a white shirt and black pair of shorts stepped in.

Jason quickly retracted his arm as he hopped off his stool. "Not her, though. Definitely not her."

"Why?" Eric was positively intrigued. "Who is she?"

"That's my fuckin' sister."

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric.**

 **Sorry for the slow pace. It'll pick up after a couple more chapters. As you can see, it'll be a long night for Eric. I just have to set up the premise before we get to the good stuff. Thank you for the warm reception! Keep the love coming, it excites the muse.**

 **Much much love!**


	3. Chapter 3

_**Two hours earlier...**_

Sookie glanced at her watch and groaned. It was fifteen minutes before midnight and there were still three tables left to clear.

 _What fun._

If she was lucky, she'd be able to hit the bed at two. And that is if she skipped the shower which, judging by the stink of cigarettes and fried food clinging to her skin, not to mention her hair, was non-negotiable. She shrugged to herself, maybe she could skip the shower, it's not like anyone would complain if she reeked. Ah, the perks of being single.

 _Yay, me. Twenty-five and still free as a fucking bird._

"Sook?" a husky voice called out. It was her employer, Sam Merlotte, the owner of Merlotte's - Bon Temps' most popular bar and grill according to his post on Yelp. "You still here?"

It was a conscious effort not to roll her eyes. After all, wasn't it Sam who asked her close shop on a Tuesday night because all of her non-single coworkers, apparently had lives outside the bar. Arlene had two kids who wouldn't want to miss tucking her children to bed. Dawn had a hot date. Jessica had to beat her boyfriend home. Lafayette had to meet some 'clients' who were in dire need to get high.

Even her best friend Tara had 'something'. So when Sam asked who could close the bar, they didn't even need to draw straws, they only needed to look at her with their doggone puppy eyes for her to cave in because she was 'such a trooper'.

 _Trooper, my ass._ One day, their lame excuses wouldn't fly. One day, those 'pretty please' looks wouldn't work on her anymore.

One day.

"Yep, just me," she replied without bothering to look up to meet her boss's eyes as she continued to wipe the metal table.

"Ah…" Sam hummed. "Will you be long? Do you need help?" The last question sounded like an afterthought and they both knew it. Sam wanted to lock up and she was keeping him from going home to his trailer park a few steps from the bar.

"S'okay, Sam I'm just finishin' up here."

"Well… if you say so. I'll just leave the keys with you and you can lock up here."

Half an hour later, she was finished. Tables were clean, chairs were upended, laminated menus were tucked in the shelf by the wall and all the lights were turned off. She was finally done for the day. All she had to do was tape the keys in the left tire of Sam's trailer.

She trudged towards the trailer park while peeling off duct tape from its spool. It wasn't until she had the keys securely fastened on the tire when she felt the mobile house bounce - maybe not bounced but more like hiccupped – followed by a series of squeaking sounds. At first she thought the trailer was moving and it made her panic. Then she heard mewling followed by 'Yes, Sam, yes'.

The small hair at the back of her head bristled. She recognized that voice. It was coming from her best friend, Tara.

 _So that's what Tara meant by 'something'._ She couldn't help but smile. At least one of them was getting laid. It had been a while since Tara had been with someone. After the shock wore off, Sookie quietly backed away from the trailer and made a quick dash to the parking lot to her 15-year-old yellow Honda.

She climbed in the driver's seat, threw her leather sling bag in the back and hugged the wheel. She was tired. No, she was fucking tired. She had been working double shifts for the past four days. Her feet were swollen, her legs were burning and her head was pounding.

 _Dig deep, Sookie,_ she pepped herself up.

She needed the extra money for medical school. She had already put off taking the MCAT for a few years, strictly because of financial constraints. And to be perfectly honest, she needed the time to recover from the sting of her first failed attempt. This year she decided, procrastination was off the table. She would take the MCAT again. Come hell or high water she'd take that damn test, ace it this time and finally go to med school.

With that thought, she straightened her back and slapped her cheeks. She had to stay awake. First things first, she had to get home and sleep her ass off. It was a good thing her house is only a 10-minute drive from the bar.

As she drove off, her mind wandered back to Tara and Sam. They seemed like an unlikely couple. Tara was outspoken, brash at times but fiercely loyal, Sam, on the other hand, kept mostly to himself. Perhaps, opposites do attract. If only that could be true for her too.

 _What kind of sex are they having? Is Tara on top? Is Sam a good lover?_

She shook her head and gave her cheek another slap. _Dog burn it, what am I thinking?_ She gripped the steering wheel tighter. She was like a dog in heat. Maybe she could wake up 'Alex' when she gets home. Ah, Alex, the one guy who never disappointed her, patiently waiting for her in the bottom drawer of her bedside table. She didn't even have to cook for him. He was always ready to please her. As long as he had two AA batteries.

 _Another perk of singlehood, hurrah!_

The thought of her Alex excited her. She deserved some me time with her toy – a giveaway from one of the many bachelorette parties she attended.

Her carnal musings had been interrupted by the ringing of her phone in her bag. Judging by the ringtone it was either Jason or Crystal. It didn't bode well for her.

She pulled over and reached for her cell. Checking the caller ID, she knew it meant trouble.

* * *

 **E/S**

 _ **Present time.**_

She knew the minute Jason had spotted her. She could practically see him sweating bullets from across the room. Good, she could still inspire fear. He might not be as wasted as Crystal thought.

With slow, deliberate steps she made her way toward her inebriated sibling.

"Sook!" Jason sputtered, swaying on his feet. "What're you doin' 'ere?"

"Crystal called. She thought you might need a ride home."

The man sitting on the stool beside Jason let out a sound that was a cross between a snort and a snicker. "Aww, aren't you sweet?"

Sookie raised her eyebrow and trained her gaze on the man. "Not really."

The man straightened up and arched a brow at her before his lips formed into a sneer.

There was something about the guy that she found very unnerving. He wasn't unattractive, she'd give him that. She'd even go as far as call him appealing.

Not to her, though, oh cheeses no.

He just looked so… entitled. So unforgivably smug.

It could be his patrician features, those chiseled cheeks that could cut through glass; his neatly styled short blonde hair; or maybe it was the way he looked her up and down; or the way his thin lips curled into an irritating smirk when he saw her. Or maybe, it was the economy of his motions - like his every move, every glance, and every word had a purpose. As though he knew he was too good for this place.

Well, whatever it was, it was grating on her nerves.

Jason might have sensed the tension between her and his drinking buddy as he snapped up and wedged himself in the middle. "Oh hey Eric, this is my li'l sis, Sookie. I told you about her."

Jason's drinking buddy turned slightly toward her, his pale blue eyes appraised her making her feel exposed. "Sookie? Is that short for…"

"Sookie," she answered dryly before turning her attention back to her brother. "Settle the bill, Jase so we can hit the road."

"Don't worry about it, it's my treat," Mr. Fantastic butted in, pulling out crisp dollar bills from his wallet and handing it to Ginger. "This enough, gorgeous?"

Ginger, whose cheeks resembled the beet root Sookie had for lunch, bobbed her head and grinned from ear to ear.

 _Dear Lord._

Sookie wished Ginger would at least try to be subtle.

"This is too much, sugar," Ginger crooned as she counted the bills.

 _Gorgeous? Sugar? Get frickin' a room already!_

Mr. Fantastic dazzled Ginger with his megawatt smile and told her to keep the change.

"You sure, man?" Jason chimed in, scratching the back of his head.

Eric shrugged as if it was no big deal.

Jason patted his new friend's shoulder. "Thanks brother."

 _Brother?_ _Ugh._

Sookie could only shake her head in annoyance. How could her brother be so foolish? Was she the only who could see through this guy's game? One look at Eric the Fantastic and she could tell he was an arrogant jerk. She knew his type. That smirk, those clothes, that condescending tone, he was a city boy looking for an easy lay. Why else would he go to Fantasia? She had been serving drinks to men like him for years - the drunkards who would cop a feel and act like it was no big deal. _Because, hey that's what tits are for, right?_

God, she had even dated men like him. They were the men who would pay for dinner and expect blow jobs in return. They would enter a room and act like they walk on water.

Men like him were the reason why she'd rather go home to a toy.

"Can we go now Jase?" Sookie didn't even try to hide her impatience.

"Gimme one minute Sook, just wanna say goodnight to Crystal."

Without waiting for response her brother scurried to the table near the dais where Crystal was sitting with the rest of her crew. Sookie's gaze followed her brother, groaning audibly when she saw Jason grab a chair next to Crystal. This would take more than a minute.

Letting out a resigned sigh, she hopped onto the stool vacated by her brother. Resting her hands on the sides of her forehead she began making circular motion with her thumbs to ward off an incoming massive headache.

"Can I get you anythin', Sook?" Ginger asked, finally peeling her googly eyes off Mr. Fantastic.

Sookie gave Ginger a weak smile. "Do you have coffee?"

Ginger chuckled. "Sorry babe but you'll have to go across the street for that. Big Al doesn't want us serving anythin' that can sober up his precious customers."

As if Ginger had summoned the Devil, Big Al walked in from the back door, with his paunch threatening to burst out of his bowling shirt.

"Sookie Stackhouse, as I live and breathe," the devil incarnate bellowed as he circled around the bar to close their gap. "You here to pick up the cripple?"

Sookie gnashed her teeth. She hated that word. "Don't call him that."

"Ooh, touchy," the asshole chuckled, patting his stomach as he inched closer. She could smell the stench of tobacco and rum in his breath. She backed away slowly as Big Al stared at her chest. Shower just moved up to the top her list.

"I see you still work for the dog."

"Living in a trailer park doesn't make him a dog." _And living in a mansion doesn't make you a man._

"Loyal… I like that," Big Al hummed, pinching the pointed end of his distasteful moustache. "I like you, you know that. I always have. How about I take you out to dinner? How's that sound?"

Forcing a saccharine smile, she slid off her seat and jutted her chin. "Don't take this the wrong way Big Al, but I'd rather drink pipe-cleaner than go out with you."

Big Al's eyes narrowed into slits as he let go of his tacky moustache. Contrary to his self-imposed monicker, Big Al wasn't really that big. However, compared to the five-foot-two Sookie, Big Al's five-foot-seven height seemed to make all the difference as he hovered over her.

"You best watch your mouth you little cunt just because I like you doesn't mean I can't whack that smart mouth of yours."

Her hands twitched at her sides itching to whip the asshole's pudgy face.

 _Don't be stupid, Sookie. He's not worth it._

The asshole leaned farther, his putrid breath blowing against his cheek, making her skin crawl. Big Al's mere proximity rattled her as a sense of déjà vu battered her like a tidal wave. Her eyes suddenly searched for her brother in a rush of panic. And just as she feared Jason was already on his feet, hobbling toward her. She wanted to shake her head and tell her brother to stand down but Big Al's imposing frame was blocking her.

Big Al must have sensed her discomfort and decided to take advantage of it as he grazed his hairy knuckles over the length of her arm and grinned.

"If I were you Sookie I'd go down on my knees and -"

The slimy bastard didn't get to finish his sentence as he went crashing to the floor with a loud thud.

Sookie clapped her hand over her mouth, stunned and relieved at the same time.

"Holy shit! You punched him!" Ginger shrieked at Eric who was pulling out bills from his wallet.

"Thanks for the commentary gorgeous. I'll be sure to watch the replay on ESPN later." He slung his bag over his shoulder and threw the money on the counter. "That's for the chair. I'm not paying for his face."

Losing her ability to speak Sookie watched as Big Al squirmed like a worm on the floor while cradling the side of his face. She could see Big Al's bouncers bounding toward the bar while customers and the rest of the staff formed a semi-circle around them.

Eric took one step closer to her, hooked his thumb under her chin and leaned in. "Take care of yourself, Miss Stackhouse," he whispered in her ear, sending goosebumps up her arms.

Then just as she was about to utter a reply he kissed her forehead and made a quick dash through the front door.

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric.**

 **You guys. You really know how to make my day. Thank y'all for the encouraging words. I'm telling you, the muse is loving the attention. I promise to post regularly!**

 **Special shoutout to MsStitcher for pre-reading this! You know I love you!**

 **All mistakes are mine.**

 **Until next time… much, much love!**


	4. Chapter 4

Eric ran until his lungs couldn't take it anymore. He clutched his chest, he was breathing so hard he thought it would explode.

Bowing down, he grabbed both his knees and gulped for air. It had been years since he used his fist to drive a point home and goddamn that felt good. Having caught his breath, he started walking at the side of what looked like a main road.

Where the fuck was he now? He couldn't see any sign - only trees and lamp posts. A couple of cars passed by but that was it.

He was now officially in the middle of nowhere.

He dug for his phone in his bag. There were five missed calls from Pam and a couple from Miriam, Pam's life partner. He'd return them tomorrow. First he had to get to a motel. _Majestueuse Maison_ didn't sound so bad now.

He shouldn't have taken the opposite route from the motel when he exited Fantasia. He considered making a U-turn but he couldn't risk passing the strip club again in case Big Al and his lackeys were looking for him.

He considered calling a taxi service but he doubted this place had Uber.

This trip was getting better and better. He kept trudging forward and spotted a sign that read: 15 miles to Bon Temps.

 _Bon Temps._

It was one of Sylvie's favorite lines: _Laissez les bons temps rouler !_ (Let the good times roll)

 _Good times?_ He could use some of that right now.

He chucked his phone in his back pocket and cringed when the fabric of his denim pants chafed the back of his hand. He held out his hand to inspect it under the soft glimmer of the lamp post.

Goddamn, Big Al's face was like asphalt. He could only wish he had made a dent on that fat fuck's meaty cheek.

Punching that fat fuck was reckless and downright stupid. He was disciplined and methodical. Everything he did was planned with careful consideration. Starting a bar fight wasn't part of his bender. This was supposed to be a quiet night of contemplation.

He went to Fantasia with one purpose: to get shitfaced on cheap bourbon. Maybe then he'd be able to deliberate whether he should go after Sylvie or just leave her be.

Come to think of it, he hadn't even thought of Sylvie that much.

Wasn't that what he wanted all along? A distraction?

Well, he was distracted all right. Distracted by Jason's lack of cajones, by Ginger's blatant worshipping, by that fat fuck's asshattery, and by Jason's sister's insulting indifference toward him.

The last thought bothered him the most. Sookie Stackhouse didn't live up to his expectations. He was expecting a Southern Belle with low self-esteem and a smile as self-deprecating as her brother's. Sunny disposition and all that shit. But all he got from her was shuddering coldness. He was actually afraid if he touched her, he'd shiver.

 _Why the hell did I deck Big Al?_

Was it his newfound camaraderie with Jason?

Or was it because that fat fuck called Sookie a cunt?

He shook his head. It couldn't be because of her. He didn't even like her. She wasn't the type of woman he'd be interested in. Period. She was a blonde for fuck's sake. He never liked blondes. All his former girlfriends –including Sylvie – were either brunettes or redheads. Never blondes. Granted, Pam was a blonde but she was his best friend, not his fuck buddy.

Plus, Sookie had been nothing but abrasive and aloof to him. She looked like she could crack a walnut with her tight ass.

 _Why did you kiss her then?_ A small voice inside his head taunted.

 _Because it's what cowboys do, they drink bourbon, slug the shitty villain and kiss the girl._

Fuck shit. He knew he was losing his mind when he started having arguments with himself.

It was time to call the cavalry.

He was dialing Pam's number when he felt something sharp poking his waist from the back.

"No sudden movements, son, or I might suddenly stab you," a male voice growled behind him. And to make sure Eric knew he meant business he pressed the tip of the blade against Eric's waistline and dug his fingers on his shoulder blade. "Drop the phone and the bag on the ground slowly."

Eric wasn't one to back out of a fight, unless of course there was a sharp object threatening to drill a hole in his gut. So he did as he was told and hurled his phone on the hard packed dirt. He was hoping the thief would dive for the phone giving Eric the chance to disarm him and knock him out. Knife guy didn't go after the phone as he tugged the strap of Eric's knapsack and threw it on the ground.

Another man wearing a black ski mask came into view and dashed for his cell and backpack. So, his mugger had an accomplice, good to know.

"Didn't your momma ever tell ya to never turn a corner you ain't never gonna walk back around?" the man with the knife asked him in his thick Southern drawl.

 _Goddamn hicks and their fucking sayings that never make sense._

"She never had a chance to teach me anything on account of she died giving birth to me," Eric gritted out.

"Whoa, that's some heavy shit," the guy in a ski mask chuckled in as he picked up Eric's knapsack. "Just like your bag."

Ski mask opened his bag and dipped his hand in it. "No wallet."

Knife guy started patting Eric's backside and found what he was looking for. He fished for Eric's wallet and tossed it to his partner.

"Sweet Mary and Joseph, we hit the mother-fuckin-load, D! Hello there Mister Franklin, nice to see ya again."

The guy with the knife chortled. "Get his watch too, looks expensive."

Ski mask slung Eric's bag over his shoulder and caught Eric's arm. The watch slid off easily and, just like what he did with Eric's wallet, he gave the watch a quick appraising.

"Is it a Rolex?" knife guy asked.

"Nah, it's a.. a -" Ski mask held it up to the lamp post for a better view, "Patik Filipe."

Eric fought the urge to roll his eyes. These bozos were going to give him an ulcer.

"What the hell is Patik Filipe?" knife guy asked, disappointment was as thick as his accent.

"Hell if I know." Ski mask shrugged then reached for his pocket. "Want me to google it?"

 _Are you fucking serious?_

Eric wanted to scream. It was bad enough that he was being robbed by two idiots, but to stand here and wait while Dumbass One googles Patek Philippe was more than he could handle.

"Look boss," Eric started, raising his arms in the air in a show of diplomacy, "take the watch. You can decide later if it's worth your time." The pun wasn't intentional. "I think we can all agree that the only loser here is me. So why don't you and your partner here wrap this up, huh?"

Ski mask stared at him. Eric swore he saw the dumbass's eye twitch behind the mask. This must be the first time a victim offered them a deal.

Eric was raised by a goddamned fixer, so if there was one thing he knew how to do well it was how to stop the fan from spreading the shit.

"That sounds fair, Mac."

Eric made a mental note of the names. If he survived this night, he'd scour this whole fucking state for every redneck named Mac and D.

Knife guy was relenting. Eric could feel his grip on his shoulder slacking as the knife glide down to his hip.

"I dunno. He's too fuckin' calm. He must be hidin' somethin'. Check his front pockets," ski mask ordered.

 _Shit! They're gonna find the ring!_

Desperation was an incredible thing, paired with panic and it could overpower logic.

Without hesitation, Eric lunged at ski mask and tackled him to the ground.

Ski mask struggled as Eric grabbed the front of his black shirt and socked him in the gut. The dumbass let an oomph as he writhed on the ground. Eric's balled hand swung again. This time he hit the dumbass's jaw drawing another guttural scream from the mugger.

Eric drew back his hand for another slug but before he could connect his fist to the fucker's face a searing pain on the left side of his waist stopped him cold. He doubled over as he grabbed the side of his stomach, his face twisting into a grimace. Ski mask shuffled away from him, crawling on his back like a crab.

Knife guy advanced toward him, waving a small bloody blade in the air. "I warned you, didn't I?"

It appeared he didn't have to be in a Hitchcock movie to get stabbed to death. The worst part was, if he died here tonight, everyone would know he fell in the hands of the World's Dumbest Muggers.

Then just as Eric was already accepting his demise, the most glorious sound echoed in the air: _car horn_.

"Shit, D! C'mon!" Eric heard the other one yell.

Knife guy didn't have to be told twice as he grabbed Eric's bag off the ground and hightailed it into the woods followed closely by his waddling partner.

Eric fell on his back as his face contorted into a grimace. He heard tires screeching to a halt a few paces from him and he had to cover his face with the back of his hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the headlights. He discerned running footsteps now.

And all he could do was pray that the newcomer wouldn't finish what the muggers started and sell his kidneys on Craig's list.

"Eric? That you man?"

He knew that voice.

"Jason."

"Sook! It's Eric! He's bleedin!"

Another set of footsteps shuffled toward him. Eric dropped his hand and saw Jason behind him was his sister, who was wielding a...

 _Is that a shotgun?_

He never thought it was possible under this condition, but the image of Sookie with a sawed-off accomplished what Ginger's tits weren't able to: _give him a hard-on… at the very least a semi_.

 _Goddamn._

Sookie hunkered down beside him, slinging the strap of the barrel over her shoulder. "What have you gotten yourself into now?" There was something in her voice that he found very disconcerting. She sounded concerned and disappointed at the same time, which reminded him of his brother. Godric was the only person in the world who could summon an explanation – and apology - from him every time he fucked up.

"I was robbed," he stated lamely, hoping that would sum everything up.

Her lips thinned as her warm blue eyes bore into him. "Can you walk?" she asked. "We're gonna get you help. The hospital's not far from here but you need to help us get you to the car."

He folded his knees and propped his elbows to give himself a boost before he started pushing his feet against the ground. Jason circled around him and grasped both his shoulders. Sookie caught his hands and tugged. He ground his teeth to keep from cursing out loud. The strain from the pulling was making the makeshift faucet in his side gush with more blood. He'd rather faint from the sheer pain than complain though.

Once he was up, Jason and Sookie hooked his arms around their shoulders as they staggered toward a tiny yellow car. Jason helped him slide in the backseat while Sookie ran to the driver's seat.

Eric felt cold although he was sure he was sweating through his shirt. He cocked his head and closed his eyes. He was getting dizzy, the bitter taste of bourbon rising up to his throat, threatening to spill.

Sookie gunned the engine and turned to him. "You gotta lie down, you'll lose more blood sittin' like that." She then turned to her brother, who had taken quite some time to get in the passenger seat. "Jase, I don't think he's putting enough pressure on his wound. You gotta help him or he'll bleed out before we can get him to E.R."

Jason turned sideways to look at him as he laid his head on the leather seat and stretched his long legs as far as the space would allow. "I can't reach it from here, Sook. I have to get in the back with him but I don't think we'll both fit."

Sookie paused, deliberating. "Can you drive?" she asked her brother.

"Of course."

She swung her door open as Jason, ever so slowly, moved behind the wheel.

The backseat door creaked as Sookie lifted Eric's head and slipped in, placing his throbbing head on her lap. She tugged the hem of his shirt and carefully positioned her palm on the wound. He didn't know if it was her hand on his waist or his head on her lap but he somehow found himself weirdly comforted as he shut his eyes again.

He felt a slight tap on his cheek. "Hey, don't sleep." She pinched his chin forcing him to look up.

"Open your eyes and look at me," she ordered.

"Can't. Sleepy."

"Open your eyes and look at me," she repeated, more sternly this time.

His eyelids drooped as he zoomed in on her face.

"You can't doze off. Not until we're sure you don't have a concussion."

His eyes fluttered as he turned his head to the side, his face inches from her flat belly. "You smell like whiskey and fries."

"It's just your breath, try closing your mouth," she deadpanned. He chuckled. This woman's snark was unbelievable. He'd like to get her and Pam in a room and watch them banter-off.

"You don't like me so much, do you?"

"Let's just say I liked you better thirty minutes ago."

"Hey it's not my fault I keep running into assholes."

She arched her brow at him, pinning him with a look. "You know we have a saying here in the South: if you run into an asshole in the morning; you ran into an asshole. But if you run into assholes all day, then _you're_ the asshole."

He sniggered, raising his brows in return. "So I'm the asshole now?"

"No." She combed her fingers through his damp hair. It felt nice. Damn this woman's ability to turn him into a pile of mush.

"I think you're a dumbass." She brushed his cheek. "For bringing a fist to a knife fight."

It must be the booze or the loss of blood but for the first time that night he found himself laughing.

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric.**

 **Told you it's a long night. There'll be one more chapter before Eric figures out there's no getting out of Louisiana just yet. I bet y'all know where Eric will end up staying. Hint: it rhymes with Sookie's house.**

 **Again, thank you so much for the support you've given this piece. You're all so awesome! Much, much love!**

 **Please feed the muse. Thank you!**

 **PS: That saying about running into assholes was courtesy of my favorite US Marshal from Kentucky, the badass Raylan Givens of Justified. Timothy Olyphant is the epitome of badass.**


	5. Chapter 5

"Stop that."

Sookie turned her head to her brother and arched her brow. He was sitting beside her and had both legs up and extended on three white plastic monobloc chairs while watching the rerun of late night news on the small TV by the wall.

"You're bouncin' your knees. Gran'll roll over her grave and tan your bee-hind if she sees you doin' that," he murmured without looking at her.

"I know, I know. Knees together," she hummed, putting both her hands on top of her knees.

The waiting room in Shreveport General's Emergency Room was practically a ghost town. The attending nurse behind her station near the entrance was probably taking a quick nap while the couple sitting on the opposite side of the room were busy with their iPads. Sookie and Jason had been in the E.R. for over an hour when the couple brought in their son who had an asthma attack and was probably taken in one of the treatment rooms to be nebulized.

Sookie directed her attention to her brother again. He was chewing the lid of an empty paper coffee cup, probably his second since they came in. She already had three cups in less than two hours, which was probably the reason she was so high strung.

She wondered how Jason could be so calm. People used to think that between the two of them she was more cerebral, cool and collected - the pacifist. What they didn't know was when push turned to shove it was Jason who held her together.

Springing to her feet, she began pacing.

"Can't you keep perfectly still for one second? You're makin' me dizzy."

She couldn't help it. Hospitals gave her the creeps, which was a crippling disadvantage if she was to become a medical practitioner someday.

It all started when she was six. Her Gran woke them up one balmy night and asked them to get in the car with her to go to this very hospital because Momma and Daddy were in a car accident.

While their father died on the spot, their mother held on long enough to see them and remind them to always brush their teeth before going to bed. She remembered crying as the chorus of beeping sounds from the machines rang in her ears. The doctors and nurses drove them out of the room as their mother flatlined.

The next time was when Jason had the "accident". She could barely see anything as the doctors wheeled her brother off to the operating room. She could barely form a single word of reply when the police started questioning her. She could barely latch on to Mrs. Fortenberry's hand as the old woman tried to shoo the authorities away so 'the poor girl' could have a moment of peace. She could barely remember any of those because she was too busy praying for her brother's life.

As if those weren't traumatizing enough, Sookie had to be the one to find her Gran sprawled on the kitchen floor. She was the one who checked for pulse and cried for relief when a vein throbbed under her fingers.

The doctors said her grandmother had a cardiac arrest. Gran stayed in the ICU for four days before she finally decided her time was up.

Sure, hospitals were riddled with sad, tragic stories and someday soon she would find a way to deal with hers. But for now, Sookie could only bounce her knees and pace the floor as she impatiently waited for their patient.

"It's been over two hours, what're they doin' back there?"

"Are you nervous?"

She gave her brother her best 'ya think?' look.

"Fine. I'll go check. I need to take a piss anyway." Jason lifted his right leg and Sookie raced to his side to give him a hand which earned her hard look. He didn't like it when she did that - makes him feel like an invalid. She stepped back and let him stand on his own.

Jason hadn't been gone ten minutes when she decided to approach the nurse in the station.

"Hi." She beamed at the sleep-deprived looking nurse. "Can I get an update on the patient we brought in? The one with the stab wound?"

The nurse stifled a yawn with her balled fist and started typing at the keyboard. "What's the name?"

"Eric. Eric Rothman." At least that was what she and Jason heard when she asked him before they arrived in the hospital. Eric wasn't particularly articulate when they wheeled him in the trauma room.

"Rothman," the nurse echoed as she typed. "Yes. Mister Rothman is fine. He only has a minor injury. His scans came out clean. Doctor Herveaux is -"

Sookie's head snapped up. "Wait - did you say Herveaux? As in Doctor Alcide Herveaux?"

"Why yes, d'you know him?"

Know him? She almost cackled. It was like asking if her heart was still beating.

She hadn't seen Alcide in almost four years. And she wondered if he still had those warm brown eyes, his perfect nose and plump lips or whether he had grown out his thick black hair. He had tried to grow out his hair and his facial hair when he was in med school which only earned him a nickname 'Sasquatch' from Jason. The beard didn't bother her though, she actually thought the facial hair made him look more masculine. His size was never an issue to her too. He was tall and bulky but who the hell cared? She could stand on her tiptoes or worse… she could wear high heels.

Alcide was her childhood friend who massacred her Gran's magnolias on the night of his and Jason's high school graduation. They were both so wasted that they miscalculated the number of steps on the porch and took a dive in her Gran's precious garden bed.

In a burst of bitter irony, Alcide, who had broken her heart more times than she cared to admit, was the one man, who proved that not all men were pigs. The one man she pined for since she was fourteen.

"Isn't he s'pposed to be in Nepal?" Her hands were shaking so hard that she had to clasp them together.

"Yes, he was. He just flew in last week."

 _Last week?_ The tremor was starting to spread to the length of her body.

"Sookie?" a female voice called her from the back.

Sookie whipped to face her caller.

"Lordy! It is you!" the woman with dirty blonde hair, donning a white coat shrieked. "It's me, Debbie. Do you remember me?"

How could she forget the woman who stole her dream?

"Of course! Debbie," Sookie gushed, matching Debbie's high octave shrill. Her arms moved up and down, deliberating whether to hug her or give her a high five. Debbie solved her dilemma when she shook her hand. She probably didn't want to soil her pristine white coat.

"Gosh how long has it been? Five, six years?"

"Five," Sookie replied with a fake smile. The infamous thanksgiving of 2010, which Jason called the day Sookie ate a whole pie.

"Wow! Has it really been that long?" Debbie shook her head.

Yet, here she was hoping it had been longer.

"So how've you been?" Debbie asked to fill the awkward pause. "Last I heard you were gonna take the MCAT. How did that go?"

"I failed."

"Oh."

In fairness to Debbie, she actually had the decency to look appalled.

"Well, y'know those damn test gets harder every year."

Sookie faked another smile. Both women regarded each other. It was almost four in the morning and Debbie still looked disappointingly decent, composed, fancy even in her creaseless black slacks and white buttoned-up shirt. Oh and of course, the fucking white coat. Everything looked better underneath that lab coat. Sookie jutted her chin as she tried to hold up under Debbie's scrutinizing gaze. Her arms wrapped around her waist to hide the smear of Eric's blood on her shirt. Damn, why did she have to see Debbie when she was wearing her ratty uniform?

 _Fate's a mean bitch sometimes._

"I'm sure whatever it is you're doing now is just as great." Debbie flashed her pearly whites. "What do you do anyway?"

"I'm a waitress in Merlotte's."

"Still?"

 _Meow_. Now the claws were coming out. Sookie would have been offended if she hadn't had that exact conversation with Debbie five years ago.

"Yup." Sookie popped her lips. "Can't say it's as glamorous as yours but hey at least no one dies at my table."

Debbie's lips thinned at her thinly veiled jab. Who could forget the medical malpractice that almost ran this hospital to the ground?

It was four years ago when Debbie Pelt, general surgeon extraordinaire, headed a living donor transplantation. The father of the patient agreed to donate one his livers to his son. No one knows until now exactly how it happened but somewhere along the eight-hour surgery, Debbie Pelt managed to kill not only the dying patient but also the healthy donor. Debbie's career should have ended that night. The only thing that saved her was her affiliation with Alcide, who flew in from Alabama after tending to tornado victims, to vouch for Debbie. The hospital agreed to settle and Debbie was slapped with a six-month suspension and two-year probation. For six short months everyone felt safe knowing Debbie was without a scalpel.

Another painfully awkward pause later, Debbie's annoying grin made a comeback.

"So, what're you doing here, Sookie?" Debbie's voice, though still chirpy, seemed a little colder now, distant.

"My friend got stabbed."

Debbie's eyes lit up. "You mean the mugging victim?" There was a squeak in her voice that Sookie found unnerving. "Alcide's stitching him up. Oh, did you know that Alcide's back?"

Sookie tried to swallow the bile in her mouth. "I heard."

"Oh my God, can you believe that guy? Flying off to Nepal to help those poor earthquake victims."

Sookie wasn't surprised. Alcide was all over the world ever since he joined Doctors Without Borders. He was Superman, trying to save everybody but her.

"Sook?" Jason's voice startled her. She was lost in her own gloominess that she didn't even see her brother coming.

"Jason! Jason, right?" Debbie chimed again. Damn, the sharp tinkle of her voice was giving Sookie a headache.

"Oh hey! Denny, right?"

"Debbie."

Sookie tried hard not to giggle. Jason was good with names. He messed up the bitch's name on purpose.

God, she loved her brother.

"D'you mind if I have a word with Sook?"

Debbie gave them both a haughty look then left.

Jason pulled her to a corner, away from the nurse's station before he declared, "Alcide's here."

"I know."

"Are you okay?"

Sookie could only stare at her brother.

"Would it help if I tell you he's really fat now?"

"Is he?"

Jason shook his head. "Bastard's still ripped."

Sookie chuckled. "How's Eric?"

"He's okay. Alcide just finished patchin' him up. It took li'l longer because Eric was refusing pain meds. Alcide had to give him a mild sedative to get him to sit still while he's sewing."

"Is he awake?"

Jason nodded. "He's itchin' to leave, says he doesn't like hospitals."

That's one thing they had in common.

"Alcide wanted to keep him here until he sobers up so he could give his official statement about the mugging."

"That sounds about right."

Jason scratched the back of his head.

"What's wrong?"

"I got a call from Crystal; Big Al's still pretty steamed, he called his buddies in the Sheriff's office, says he wants to file an assault charge."

"Fucking cry baby," she cursed under her breath. "Does Eric know?"

"No. I can't tell him without letting Alcide know." Jason shifted his weight to his other foot. "That's why I think it's best if we take Eric home with us."

Sookie's eyes widened. "What?"

"Someone from the Sheriff's department will come here and take his statement. How long d'you think it'll take before they figure out Eric is the same guy who broke Big Al's nose?" Jason was talking so fast to the point where a vein in his neck was swelling up. "He's vulnerable, Sook, broke and wounded."

Jason had valid points but so did she. "We barely know him, Jase."

"I know he punched a guy for you."

"We don't know that." She was quick to refute. She didn't ask him to hit Big Al. Someone saved her once before and it almost got him killed. Since then she promised herself that she'd never be a damsel in distress again, she'd be the fucking cavalry.

"C'mon Sook. One night. He can crash on the couch. And I'll watch him from Gran's chair."

Sookie was still apprehensive. To say she had trust issues when it came to men would be an understatement. "If he tries anythin' nasty-"

"I'll shoot him myself," he finished her statement. "You know I'll never let anythin' happen to you."

The gravitas behind those words struck a very raw chord with Sookie.

With an audible sigh she yielded. "Here I thought you're done bringing home blondes from the bar."

Jason chuckled. "Can't help it. He's too damn pretty."

* * *

 **E/S**

Her heart raced as walked side by side her brother on the way to the treatment room.

She hugged her waist, wishing she had time to change into something that didn't scream I-had-a-long-night-don't-ask attire. Would it be too late to put a little lip gloss?

 _Ah, shit._

Jason knocked on the door. The door swung open, revealing, who else but, Debbie Pelt, grinning from ear to ear.

"Look who paid us a visit!" Debbie beamed, pulling the door wider.

Jason stepped in without a word. She followed him and saw two heads whipping in her direction.

Her cheeks burned as her gaze oscillated from Alcide to the shirtless Eric sitting on the edge of the bed.

Sookie didn't know which bothered her the most: Alcide or Eric.

Under the unforgiving glare of the fluorescent light, Eric was quite a sight. It was perhaps his slightly tousled hair that made him look more human, more pleasant. Or maybe it was his somber blue eyes, which made him look sincere, genuine, likeable. Or maybe, just maybe, it was just his abs.

 _Lord almighty, the abs._ She could grate cheese on those ripples. She wanted to count how many buns he was packing but she was afraid they might call security.

In the wise words of her friend Lafayette: _hubba hubba_.

Her throat went dry. She must be getting her period soon because her fucking hormones were messing with her head. She was such a hypocrite, despising men who objectified women when here she was doing just that.

"Sookie?"

She jumped back, mortified. It was like being caught playing with 'Alex'.

Blinking her eyes into focus, she homed in on the man standing by the hospital bed.

"Alcide," she croaked. _Goddamn, get a grip, Susanna._ She cleared her throat and tried again. "Hey Alcide."

Alcide stepped closer, arms extended, probably aiming for a hug. She pulled back out of reflex and stuck her hand out to give him a handshake instead. Eric's previous comment about whiskey and fries lingered in her head.

Alcide furrowed his brows as he took her hand and squeezed it. "How're you?"

"I'm good. Good, good, good." Oh did she mention she was good? Crap she was losing it.

"Good," Alcide parroted, her hand still wrapped under his.

"You're back," she quipped, hiding the bitterness in her tone.

Alcide let go of her hand and ruffled his unruly hair. "I was planning to go to the farmhouse this weekend."

"Oh."

"Yeah, it's just that it's been busy here with uhm…"

She waved her hand dismissively. "Don't worry 'bout it. I understand."

Alcide gave her a weak, apologetic smile. "How've you been? Besides being good…"

She chuckled. "I'm still workin' for Sam. Y'know, savin' lives one beer at a time."

It was Alcide's turn to laugh. His eyes lit up like the sky in the fourth of July - the crinkles around his eyes told her just how long he had been gone. And just like that she remembered why she was in love with him.

Then she heard coughing, more like hacking. She turned her head to the side and found Eric's arched brows, sizing her up once again.

"Oh sorry, was that rude?" Eric asked drily. "Please go on, it's not like I'm in pain or anything."

Sookie narrowed her eyes at him, ready to pounce. Forget his abs, he just messed up with true love. And wasn't he supposed to be sedated?

"You know, Mister Rothman, you wouldn't be in so much pain if you had only taken the pain meds."

"To borrow Sookie's words, Doc: I'm good. Good, good, good."

Her cheeks flared up again.

"I only want to get outta here, _please_."

"I strongly advise against it," Debbie put in her two cents. For a moment there Sookie was able to blur Debbie out of the room. What was she doing here by the way? Did Alcide bring her in for a consult? Highly unlikely. Was she waiting for Alcide? Possibly.

Then out of the corner of her eyes, Sookie saw the navy blue scrub top tucked between Debbie's folded arms.

"Is that for Eric?" Sookie asked pointing at the clothing.

Debbie looked down at her arms and belatedly giggled. "Gosh darn, I forgot! That's why I came here."

Sookie and Jason exchanged a look. Debbie, the maneater, was there for a show and Eric was the fucking star.

"His shirt is in the bag by the counter, it's torn and bloody so I asked for scrubs," Alcide explained.

Then the question here was: _why in God's green earth is he still shirtless?_ It was freaking distracting.

"Look, bubba, it's been real nice seein' you but it's late and we'd really like to go home now," Jason said as he helped Eric put on the scrub.

"Jase, man, I told you it's better if he stays here at least for the night. It's not advisable for him to be alone in a hotel room -"

"He won't be," Sookie cut Alcide off. "He'll be staying with us."

Alcide pinned her with questioning look. "Why?"

Sookie opened her mouth to spew some lame excuse but Jason beat her to it.

"Because he's Sook's boyfriend."

All heads lashed in Jason's direction.

"Boyfriend?" Debbie, curiously, was the first to voice out her misplaced indignation.

"That's why he's here in Louisiana. He wanted to surprise Sook and got lost in the process. He called us to fetch him but then disaster struck."

It was amazing how her brother could come up with such an elaborate lie on the fly.

Alcide looked at Sookie with a pained expression. "How come this is the first time I'm hearing about this?"

Sookie was confused. Why did Alcide look betrayed? And why was Debbie blatantly flirting with Eric? Something wasn't adding up.

She had no time to add one plus one as Alcide kept staring at her. Jutting her chin mutinously, she quipped, "Well sorry, I haven't had the chance to update my Facebook status."

"Eric?" Debbie still looked shaken. Damn bitch couldn't move on.

To Sookie's surprise, Eric clasped his long tapered fingers with her short, calloused digits and said, "I guess now you know why I'm dying to leave this hospital."

Alcide's gaze fell to their entwined fingers. A dark shadow passed through his eyes, resembling some form of resentment. Maybe he was jealous, or maybe he just didn't like Eric. She could never be certain with Alcide. It was damn hard to read Superman.

"All right then. I'll go get your discharge papers." Alcide made his way to the door, holding it open for Debbie, who looked like she had lost a lottery.

Jason, who patted Eric's shoulder, gave Sookie a wink and made his exit to settle the hospital bills and get Eric's meds.

As soon as the coast was clear, Sookie snatched her hand from Eric's hold.

"So…" Eric hummed with a lopsided sneer.

"Wipe that smirk off your face. It was Jason's idea," she gritted.

"Whatever you say lover."

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric.**

 **Sorry for the delay in posting. Real life sucks, blah blah. Back to E/S, finally the night's over. On to the next day!**

 **MsStitcher, my awesome pre-reader, has voiced her concerns about the Alcide angle. But like you, she knows where I'm heading with this:** _ **angstville**_ **. Eric has Sylvie, Sookie has Alcide. And if X equals Y then it only means E/S. (I suck in math, don't judge)**

 **Until next posting m'loves! As always, your thoughts are very much appreciated. Much much love!**


	6. Chapter 6

Eric woke up in a daze. His eyesight was blurry as he took in the surroundings. Sunlight seeped through the gossamer curtain. It was bright, too fucking bright.

Where the hell was he?

He felt as if the entire room was spinning. He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes as he hoisted himself to a sitting position, which in hindsight wasn't the best idea. He cringed as a bolt of pain shot up from his side. He tugged at his shirt and saw the patch of gauze on the side of his stomach.

The events of the previous night started coming back to him in bullet points.

Bates Motel.

Fantasia.

Fat fuck.

Jason.

Sookie.

And last but not the least, the two fuckers in ski masks who mugged him.

His hand immediately clapped against his right front pocket. A sigh of relief escaped his lips as he felt the tiny round bulge at the bottom.

Sylvie's ring was safe.

His celebration was brief though, as he felt the need to relieve his bladder. Springing to his feet, he found himself alone in the middle of a very outdated living room.

Even without the floral pattern wallpapers, Eric could tell he was in an old lady's house with all the crochet doilies hanging in almost every surface – the brown sofa, the matching beige winged chairs, and, of course, the runner on the long oak coffee table.

Jason and Sookie could use a trip to Ikea.

The television near the fireplace was a fucking dinosaur. He wouldn't be surprised if it was still in black and white. There was a DVD player next to the TV, with stacks of boxed DVDs on top of it – five seasons of _The Good Wife_ and two seasons of _Top Gear_.

 _Gee, I wonder who watches which_.

The room's only saving grace was the antique bookshelf lined with books –mostly old paperbacks. The collection was impressive, Chaucer, Ayn Rand, Jane Austen, Umberto Eco, Hemingway, Fitzgerald, Tolkien, T. S. Elliot, Faulkner and even the hard-as-fuck to read Ulysses was there.

Godric would have loved this, he thought bitterly as he ran his fingers along the spines of the worn-out books. His brother had a long storied affair with rare books. Eric had lost count how many yard sales and antique bookstores he had been dragged into in Godric's quest to complete his collection.

' _Find something to love, Eric, something to treasure. The sense of accomplishment you get when you find something rare is pretty spectacular. Like a mind-blowing orgasm, a different kind of high.'_

Godric was an old soul. Eric wasn't. If he needed mind-blowing orgasm, he knew where to go. And when it came to chasing a different kind of high, well, his dealer was but a phone call away.

His eyes were getting misty. Fuck, he was getting wistful over some dumb books.

 _Not cool, Northman._

Shaking off the melancholia, he continued his exploration and was stymied when he heard sounds coming from the next room.

"You cannot be serious?" he heard Sookie raise her voice. "You're going back to Fantasia tonight? Do you have a death wish, Jase? You know he's hellbent on finding Eric. If he finds out he's staying here he'll tear you to pieces. I don't think even his fatboy crush on me will be able to save you this time."

Eric sniggered as he leaned against the wall near the doorjamb.

"The only way Al's gonna find out Eric's here is if I tell him, which I'm not stupid enough to do so," Jason countered, which gave Eric a little relief.

"Why, Jase, why do you have to go there tonight?" Sookie asked. Eric detected a hint of frustration in her tone.

 _Why, indeed, Jason?_

"You know why," Jason replied, sounding deflated.

"Do you really think that your presence is enough to stop those horny bastards from hitting on Crystal? You're just torturing yourself, Jase."

Eric didn't want to agree with Sookie but she had a point. He had seen how the fat fuck treated Jason and that was before Eric knocked him out cold.

"She's pregnant, Sook."

 _Whoa._ Eric didn't see that one coming. A taut silence descended after Jason's revelation and Eric could only assume Sookie was in shock too.

"She found out last week. She tried to quit but Al wouldn't let her - at least not until she paid off her debts."

There was a soft thump followed by a scratching sound of wood against wood. He sneaked a peek and caught the siblings' reflection in the glass of the display cabinet. Jason and Sookie were sitting across each other in a round wooden dining table. Sookie had her hand pressed against her forehead.

"Crystal's pregnant?"

Jason chuckled. "Can you believe it? I'm gonna be a dad, Sook, and you're gonna be an aunt."

Eric remembered his Aunt Ruth in Sweden, she was the one who taught him and Godric how to smoke weed. He doubted Sookie would be that cool.

"How much does she owe Big Al?" Sookie asked after a moment.

"Seven grand, give or take."

"Seven thousand?!"

"T'was for her boob job last year. She thought t'was a good investment at the time. She wasn't gettin' enough attention in the bar so Al suggested implants and loaned her the money. She thought those babies would pay for themselves but then Yvetta came along and well, you know the rest."

Eric didn't know the rest of the story and honestly he couldn't give a rat's ass because right now the rest of him was screaming for release.

"I have money," Sookie said quietly. Like telling someone a shameful secret.

"Uh-uh," Jason mumbled, shaking his head. "I'm not takin' your savings."

"It's a loan, Jase, not charity."

"No!" Jason repeated. "I mean it Sook. You've been savin' up for med school for years. It's bad enough that you have to foot Gran's hospital bill by yourself. I'm not lettin' you put your future on hold just to pay for Crystal's boob job."

"She's pregnant, Jase."

"Damn straight. I'm the one who knocked her up, remember? So I should be the one to help her get through this. I'll find a way to get the cash. You just focus on passing that darned test. It's about time you get that fucking white coat."

 _Goddamn. It's too early for drama-fucking-rama._

He had to make a move now. If Jason broke into tears it would be harder to butt in. And Eric would have no choice but to piss on a tree outside like a stray dog. He had suffered enough humiliation in Louisiana to be caught with his dick in his hand.

Stepping into what he could surmise was the kitchen, he cleared his throat.

"Sorry, excuse me, I don't mean to interrupt the family conference here but I really need to take a leak."

Sookie and Jason snapped their heads to him. Jason was the first to recover as he peeled off his chair.

"'Course man, bathroom's over there." Jason pointed to the blue door to the left.

Eric careened to the bathroom. It was utilitarian and clean and Eric had never been so happy to see a toilet bowl in his life as he pissed last night's bourbon away.

When he came out, Jason was nowhere in sight. Sookie was by the counter with her back to him.

He cleared his throat again. Apparently that was his go-to icebreaker when it came to her.

Sookie whipped around with a plate of sandwich in one hand and big ass knife in the other.

He swallowed thickly. It seemed Sookie with a gun was hot but Sookie with a knife? Not so much.

"Uh…where's Jason?"

She marched in front of him, putting the plate on the table but keeping the knife close to her chest.

"He's on the phone with Crystal. He had to take it outside because the cell signal's poor inside the house." She pulled up a chair. "Sit. You should eat something. You have to take antibiotics and you can't take it on an empty stomach."

He did as he was told while keeping a close eye on the sharp object she was carrying. After last night, he realized he wasn't a big fan of knives.

He started tackling his sandwich. It was chicken salad, which wasn't half bad. She watched him eat as she sat on the chair across him, putting the knife in front of her.

"Does it hurt?"

He put his food down and swiped the side of his mouth with his thumb. "What do you mean?"

"Your wound? Does it hurt?"

 _Like a motherfucker._ "It's not so bad," he lied.

He understood pain. He knew how it functioned, he could choose to acknowledge it or he could choose to ignore it. He decided to go with the latter.

"Can I see it? I probably need to change the dressing."

"What? Now?"

"After you're done eating."

"Uh… actually I was planning on making a phone call first."

"Sure, you can use Jason's phone. Mine's charging. _After_ we change your dressing."

She sounded so bossy. And it was irritating that he was powerless to say no to her. So he nodded his assent and resumed nibbling his sandwich. Sookie stood up and marched to the counter again.

"You want iced tea or coffee?"

"Do you have OJ?"

"We're out of juice. But I can make you some lemonade."

Her tone was as dry as his meal. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to make any more requests.

"Coffee's fine." He was tempted to add 'make it Irish, while you're at it, doll' but decided against making jokes.

She poured him a cup and went back to her chair.

"How's Big Al?" Actually, he couldn't care less about the fat fuck but he needed a material to make light conversation. Sookie watching him chew was uncomfortable as fuck.

"I'll tell you when I start caring."

"He had it coming, you know that right?"

Sookie furrowed her brows, leaned back and crossed her arms. "What do you want me to say, Eric? Thank you?"

Eric was jolted by the condescension in her tone. He shrugged it off and said, "Well… yeah."

Her lips formed a taut line, eyes mutinous.

He put the sandwich back on the plate. "Don't get me wrong, I am grateful for all these. I just want a little credit too."

She gaped at him, incredulous. "For what? For hitting Al? No one asked you to rock that stupid boat."

"Someone has to," his tone raised up a notch in defense. Would it really kill her to show a little appreciation? "He called you a cunt and Jason a cripple for fuck's sake."

The glare she shot him could have single-handedly warmed his coffee. Her expression almost made him back off but he was done being a fucking pussy in front of her.

"That's exactly why I don't like you Eric. You come here and act like you're some sort of Messiah. Here to save us from our shitty lives and expect us to bow, when in fact, you're just a punk. You're reckless, you operate with impunity. I don't want that kind of behavior rubbing off on my brother." She paused to take a deep breath. "Let me ask you one thing, if I had punched or slapped Al, who do you think he'd go after?"

Her gaze went out the window. Eric followed her line of sight and saw Jason leaning against a pole at the porch, pressing his cell to his ear.

"Walking away doesn't make me a coward, Eric. It only means I have bigger battles to fight."

He had heard that screed many times before from Godric. And damn if it didn't hurt.

He _had_ changed. He was no longer _that_ Eric. He had turned his life around. Who was she to prematurely compartmentalize him?

 _Who the fuck does she think she is?_

Before Eric could summon his own monologue, Jason walked in the kitchen, a stupid grin plastered on his stupid face.

"What's up?" Jason asked no one in particular.

Sookie peeled herself off her chair and walked out of the kitchen without a word. Eric, in return, balled up the rest of sandwich and shoved it all in his mouth.

Jason hobbled toward the table and sidled up next to him. There was definitely something wrong with the way Jason was strutting. It appeared his left foot was dragging his right. Fuck if he cared. He was done giving a shit about Jason or his judgmental sister.

"How's it goin' man?" Jason asked, grinning at him like the clueless dimwit that he was.

Eric made a show of carefully chewing his food as he wrapped his fingers around the coffee mug that said 'World's Greatest Grandma'.

"I promised Alcide I'll help you report the mugging and I was thinkin' maybe we can do it here in Bon Temps instead of driving back to Shreveport since I know the Sheriff here much better. But we'll have to wait for Crystal to bring my truck though. She'll be here around three. Is that okay?"

Eric replied with a one-shoulder shrug. Unlike Jason, he wasn't that keen on going back to Shreveport. The one thing he was looking forward to was giving Pam a thorough dressing down.

The Frost Queen from Bon Temps came strutting back, carrying a small plastic box.

"You done?" she asked, looking pointedly at him.

He downed his coffee, wincing at how bitter it was. Someone had forgotten to put sugar and cream.

 _Bitch._

"Take your antibiotics and follow me in the living room."

He was tempted to give her a middle-finger salute but he didn't want to give her any more bullet in case she decided to speak from the pulpit again.

He decided to take different approach instead as he took his sweet time getting water from the tap. It wouldn't kill her to wait.

Swallowing his frustrations down, he started perusing the label on the orange pill bottle.

Wait-

 _Eric Rothman._

He blinked and checked the name again.

 _Rothman?_ When did he become Jewish?

"Eric," Jason called out, "something wrong, man?"

Eric gaped at Jason then again at the bottle. Did Jason get the right prescription? He scanned the other details on the label. Everything seemed to be in order, except for his last name.

 _What the-_

Hmm, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to mess up his last name. It wasn't like he was planning on staying here for a considerable amount of time. Besides, Sookie made it perfectly clear she didn't like him, so what the hell. In this case, anonymity was his friend.

So, Eric Rothman he would be.

Trailing Jason back to the living room, he found Sookie kneeling on the floor while unwinding a spool of gauze.

He sat in front of her. Was this what she meant by bowing to him?

"Should I take off my shirt?" he said tugging at the hems of the blue scrub top.

"No!" she yelped, which made his brows hike up to his forehead. "Keep it on."

"Won't it be easier if I just take it off instead of holding it up?"

"This won't take long. Just keep your shirt on."

He caught Jason snickering behind the sofa while Sookie kept her head down, avoiding any eye contact. Eric shook his head. These siblings were fucking weird.

Sookie helped him lift the hem of his scrub top and started peeling off the gauze gently. Her hands were so tiny and soft but they worked with surgical precision. It almost made him wonder how someone so abrasive could be so tender.

A loud buzzing sound made him twitch, knocking off her hand, making the edge of the adhesive tape stick to the tip of the surgical thread.

"Shit, it's Tray," Jason mumbled behind them as he stared at his vibrating phone. "I forgot to tell him I'm not coming in the shop today."

Sookie skewered her brother with a glare. "Can you take that outside?" she asked through gritted teeth.

"Yeah, sorry, sorry," Jason murmured as he retreated back to the porch. "Tray, dude -"

Sookie's attention returned to his wound as she carefully yanked the tape off the thread. Eric couldn't help but hiss as she tugged.

"Sorry," she whispered meekly, which actually caught him off guard. Sookie was apologizing? That was a first.

He didn't respond. He was still pissed at her.

"I'll change your bandage to keep the wound dry."

She examined his stitches, her face inches away from the side of his waist.

"It looks good," she assured him, picking up a cotton pad soaked in warm water and started dabbing. "The suture's intact. The wound seems clean. Alcide did a fine job."

"Who?" Curiosity struck before he could stop himself.

She looked up. "Alcide, your doctor."

"Oh. The friendly doctor," he stated drily. "Are all doctors here that chummy or is it just him?"

She smiled. There was a spark in her eyes that he hadn't seen before. Damn, he should have taken a picture. It was so rare; he probably wouldn't see it again.

"Alcide's an old friend. He went to high school with Jason. They were joined at the hip before Alcide went to college."

"And you?" _Oh my God, Northman, when did you turn into a fucking gossip?_

"What do you mean?" She lowered her gaze, clearly dodging his, and went back to tending to his injury.

"Were you joined at the hip with the fine doctor too?" At this point he gave up trying to stop himself from caring.

She bit her lower lip and stared at his wound.

Was she actually ignoring him? He clenched his jaws. No one – no, cross that out, no _woman_ – had ever ignored him. It was fucking annoying. This must be how Sylvie felt every time he turned up the volume of the television whenever she tried to ask him something trivial and personal. Goddamn, he missed the days when he was the laconic one.

"Pardon my curiousity. It's just that I sensed some kind of tension last night when Jason told him I was your boyfriend. Obviously I don't want to step on anyone's toes."

She straightened her back and tilted her head to meet his gaze. "First of, you don't have to worry about stepping on anyone's toes since we're not really a couple. And to answer your question: no, my hips and his were never attached. There's no history between us - none whatsoever."

His brows arched at the way she responded. She sounded subdued, upset, seemingly saddened by the admission. And that, surprisingly, didn't sit well with him.

 _Does she like Alcide?_

Was it possible that Elsa the Ice Queen was interested in the doctor? If so, then for fuck's sake, why? What was so special about that damned doctor? He was mediocre at best, forgettable even. For one, he looked like a fucking caveman, who had never heard of the thing called razor.

Eric turned his head sideways to study her.

She was chewing her lip again. Her eyes fluttered as she cleaned his wound.

Were her lashes always that thick and long? There was no way they were natural. Sylvie always wore fake lashes. The sight of Sylvie tugging her lashes from her eyelids was something he would never forget.

 _They highlight my eyes_ , she had explained defensively.

He dipped his head a little lower, careful not to swivel his torso to avoid pinching his stitches, to get a better vista. Damn, they were real.

 _Fascinating_.

Suddenly, he felt a sting and winced.

"Its alcohol, sorry," she hushed as she held a Q-tip cotton swab.

Wow, two apologies in one sitting, must be some kind of a record.

This time he answered, "S'okay."

She discarded the used Q-tip and picked up another, this time with Betadine. She leaned in closer to his waist and started blowing at his wound.

Her breath was warm against his exposed skin. Damn that felt good. For a second there, he had forgotten how cold she was to him.

For a second there, he let himself forget about Sylvie.

For a second there, he let himself wonder how soft Sookie's lips were. How beautiful her eyes were up-close. How good it would feel to have those tiny hands against his chest; to have her nails digging into his back.

He felt his pants get tighter as his cock began swelling.

 _Shit._

 _No. Nonono. Stop!_

He wanted to twist his hip to hide the slowly growing bulge in his pants but that might only draw her attention to ' _it_ '.

 _Fuck. Please, stop._

He shut his eyes, cutting off images of Sookie and her tiny hands and soft lips and big, round eyes.

"Eric?"

God, even the way she said his name was making his cock even harder.

"Eric."

He forced his eyes open. "Hmm?"

"I'm done," she said, pulling herself up from the floor. "You can change the dressing again when you take a shower. The water will help loosen the bandage but try not to blast it with water. It's still swollen so try not to move around so much to keep it from tearin'. I washed your shirt; it's drying on the clothesline at the back. I don't think any of Jason's jeans will fit you but he has an old tracksuit that might do the job."

 _Shower?_ _Do I smell?_

She gathered the first aid kit, barely throwing him a glance. Then just before she could march back to the kitchen, she turned slightly to him and he noticed she was flustered.

She darted a glance at his middle and he realized why her cheeks were burning.

"Take a shower, Eric. You look like you need one."

Eric was beyond mortified. As soon as she was out of the room, he buried his face in one of the throw pillows to muffle his groan.

 _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck._

He should go after her, tell her he wasn't a pervert. That he wasn't interested in her. That he was thinking about his former fiancée - his gorgeous, French lover.

 _Yes, I was thinking of Sylvie._

 _Sylvie. I love Sylvie. I want Sylvie. I want Sylvie. I want Sylvie._

His mental chant wasn't doing him any good as images of Sookie's flushed cheeks kept flashing back in his head. He grabbed the pillow and stuffed it in his mouth as he let out another groan. He had to get out of this podunk town quickly, before he completely lost his mind.

 _I want Sylvie. I want Sylvie. I want Sylvie. I want Sylvie._

Then just before he could stop it, he thought: _I want Sookie…_

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric.**

 **I hope you like it! Big big thanks to MsStitcher, aka superwoman, for pre-reading this chapter. Your thoughts are love.**

 **Until next loves!**


	7. Chapter 7

In his attempt to save face, Eric did what any rational guy would do in this kind of situation: _he pretended to sleep_. Yes, he faked it, even threw in an occasional snore for good measure. He kept his head buried in the pillow as he listened to Sookie traipse around the house, while he tried to find logic for his hard-on.

One thing he knew for certain was that he didn't like Sookie. No goddamn way.

The reason his body was reacting stupidly was because he hadn't been with a woman in more than two weeks. That was too fucking long not to fuck. Especially for someone like him who had been active in the sack since he was sixteen - when lost his virginity to his Latin tutor who gave him a mind-blowing fellatio, which came from the Latin word ' _fellatus_ '. Latin had never been the same for him after that.

It was only natural to get stimulated by a woman's touch, regardless of how frigid that specific woman was.

Satisfied with his rationalization, he let the drugs pull him into dream world for real.

The next time he opened his eyes, Sookie was gone – or at least he hoped she was. He swung his feet off the couch and hoisted himself up. His neck was stiff, his back was aching, the stitches in his side were throbbing, his head felt like a ton of bricks, his throat was like sandpaper and he smelled like a fucking hobo. Overall, he was peachy.

He heard a pattering of footsteps against the floor.

He groaned. _Please don't be Sookie._

"Hey man."

Eric let out an audible sigh. It was Jason and not his judgemental sister.

Jason was holding some kind of power tool, a drill perhaps. And with his gray fitted tank top, khaki cargo pants, capped with a bulky utility belt around his waist, Jason looked like he was about to burst into a song-and-dance with the Village People.

"D'you need anything?"

God bless Jason and his perpetual need to please.

"I could use some water."

Jason put the power tool on the wingback chair across the sofa. "Stay right there."

Eric nodded before he rested his head on the backrest of the springy couch and lay perfectly still on the couch.

"Here you go." Jason placed a glass of water on the wooden coffee table, crossed to the winged chair, picked up his drill and sat.

"I've called my pal from the Sheriff's Office to report the mugging while you were sleepin'. He said he'll keep a lookout for a certain Mac and Dee. I'm not sure if I got it right though, the muggers took your phone, wallet, iPad, clothes and watch, yeah?"

Eric bobbed his head in assent. "I can actually find my phone and iPad through their tracker but I need a computer to login to my iTunes account."

"Oh." Jason scratched the back of his neck. "I'm afraid we don't have that here, bud. There's a public computer in the library though, I can drive you there later. Crystal already brought in my truck."

"She did? I thought she won't be here until three." His gaze reflexively went to his right arm only to realize he wasn't wearing a watch anymore. "What time is it?" His head whipped around the room in search for the time. This house was like a freaking casino, there wasn't a single clock in sight.

"It's almost five, bubba. You were out like a light. Sookie had to check your pulse to make sure you're still breathin'."

Shit. He slept that long?

He leapt to his feet, cringing as the pain from his side shot up to his head. "I need to make a phone call."

"Sure, sure."

Eric heard the rasp of the Velcro as Jason pulled his cell from one of his pants' pockets.

"You have to go to the porch; the cell signal inside the house is bad."

Eric had already tuned out Jason as he staggered to the front door, trying his best to recall Pam's number.

Jason's Nokia phone fit the theme of the farmhouse – outdated bordering on obsolete. It wasn't hard to figure out though as he started punching the digits.

There were three chimes followed by a voice recording: _We're sorry but the number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service._

What the fuck?

Did he get the numbers wrong? Eric stared at the series of numbers on the screen. They seemed to be in order so he tried again. He was greeted by the same voice recording. He gave up after the fourth attempt and tried his office. To his utter frustration, no one was picking either.

He sat down in the white wooden porch swing and pinched the bridge of his nose before started dialing another set of numbers. This time it was to Pam's apartment.

One ring.

Two.

By the middle of the third ring, Eric was already agitated. If no one picked up after the third ring, his call would go straight to voicemail. He didn't want to lash out on Pam via a recording. He wanted her to feel his wrath in every fucking syllable.

Mercifully, the call got connected. There was low beep and then a harried, "Hello?"

The person on the other line wasn't Pam though.

"Miriam?"

"Who's this?"

"Eric. Where's Pam?"

There was a two-second delay before the person on the other line spoke again.

"Eric?"

He heard a screeching on the background. She must be in the car and his call had been forwarded to her cell. He almost forgot that Miriam and Pam were now living together.

"Where the hell are you?" she asked.

Eric was taken aback by Miriam's tone. In all the years he had known her, he had never heard her curse. She was always so pleasant and polite, qualities that made her the perfect Head of Customers' Service and Public Relations of Northman Cap.

"We've been trying to reach you since last night." Miriam sounded frantic.

"Where's Pam, Miriam?"

"I'm on my way to get her out right now."

"Out of what?"

"You haven't heard? Pam was arrested last night."

Eric's mouth opened but no sound came out.

"Remember the discrepancies in the ledgers? Pam ran it through accounting after you left. You were right, the numbers weren't adding up. It was Felipe. That son of a bitch had been stealing from the company. He set up a dummy account under yours and Pam's names. The Feds had that account on it their watch-list for months now. When Pam tried to access it, it alerted the Feds. Before we knew it, the Feds were already banging at our door. They dragged her out of the house in cuffs, Eric."

Eric was gripping the phone so tight. How could something get this fucked up in such a short amount of time?

"They're charging her with fraud. Both of you."

"Where's De Castro?" he said through gritted teeth.

"He went under. By the time the Feds got to his house, he was gone. Sandy, your assistant, was working for him. She tipped him off when Pam asked for the financial records. Sandy's nowhere to be found either."

 _Fuck!_

"Your father said -"

"What do you mean, _my father_?" he cut her off, cold sweat pooling at the back of his neck.

There was a long pause before Miriam could reply. "I called him this morning," was her quiet admission. "I'm out of my depth here, Eric. The Feds are pressuring Pam to give you up. They are threatening to put her in a Federal prison for a crime she didn't commit. The stakeholders are losing their shit. They think you ran away with the money and scapegoated Pam."

Eric peeled himself off the swing and began to pace. His mind was spinning as his stomach roiled.

"You should have called our lawyers."

"Pam ordered me not to. The Feds are adamant to go public with her arrest. She doesn't want that kind of publicity. It will ruin the company, it will ruin _you._ This needs to be contained."

"So you called Appius?" Eric was flabbergasted.

"Yes, Eric. I asked your father to fix it." Miriam no longer sounded subdued as she got more and more defensive. "He met with the shareholders this morning. He was able to calm them down by agreeing to replace the stolen money while the Feds are tracking down De Castro. Appius handled it, Eric. He fixed it. I made the right call."

"That wasn't your call to make!" he yelled at the phone. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Jason spring out of the wingback chair, head snapping in his direction. Eric whipped his back to face the driveway, away from Jason's curious gaze. "It's my company, Miriam. Mine. You have no right to get Appius involved in this."

"You weren't here Eric!" It was Miriam's turn to burst out. "I didn't know what else to do. I didn't know who else to trust."

"And you chose to trust _him_?" Eric whisper-hissed.

He heard a loud whoosh as Miriam breathed out her exasperation.

"I'm sorry. I know you and Appius have a difficult relationship, but he _is_ your father. He is a Northman. He may not like you but the Northman Cap is part of his legacy. If it goes down the sinkhole, his name will go down with it."

Eric wasn't appeased, nor convinced. "You just let the wolf in the hen house, Miriam."

"I had no choice," was all she could say.

He didn't think it was possible but somehow getting mugged and stabbed by two idiots seemed trivial now. His best friend was arrested. His bastardous father usurped the company that took him years to build. And he couldn't do a damn thing about it.

"I have to get back to New York."

"No," Miriam was quick to retort. "That's not a good idea. Even Pam thought so, that's why she was refusing to divulge your location to the Feds. You should stay under the radar for now. The Feds are hot on your trail. If they catch you, they will lock you up. They've already frozen your assets, Eric. Pam's too. Do you have any idea the kind of hell I had to go through just to convince them to let Pam out on bail? They consider both of you flight risks. If it wasn't for Appius and his connections, Pam would be in a Federal prison now. You've got to stay out of this Eric. You need plausible deniability in case this goes public."

Eric, who was leaning against the banisters, felt himself sliding down to the wooden floor. Every muscle in his body slacked under the weight of his problems. This must be what it felt like to tumble down from grace.

"Eric, you still there?"

He swallowed thickly, thinking of something intelligent to say. After a while, he decided to settle with the simple truth.

"I was mugged last night," he hushed, defeated. There was no point pretending everything was okay. "That's why I couldn't answer your calls."

"Oh my God. Were you hurt?"

"No," he lied. "I'm fine. But the muggers took all my stuff. I'm staying with the guy I met in a bar in Shreveport. Even if I want to go home, I have no money."

Miriam took a while to respond again.

"Uhm…look, Eric. I want to help you, I do. But the thing is, I'm tapped out myself. I just cleaned out my savings to come up with the bail money. If you want, I can ask your father -"

"No!" he couldn't help but screech. "Appius has done enough. I'll manage. I can find a way to keep afloat. Just get Pam out of jail and find the motherfucker who stole from us."

"I will. We'll keep you updated. Is this your friend's number? Can we get in touch with you through this number?"

Eric nodded, realizing belatedly that Miriam couldn't see his response. "Yeah, the cell belongs to Jason Stackhouse. If I end up floating in the Mississippi river, look for him or his sister."

"Don't joke like that, Eric," Miriam tsked.

He wished he was kidding.

He ended the call first and placed the phone on the swing as he palmed his face. He wanted to scream and hit something. It took him three years to get Northman Cap up and running and it only took less than 24 hours for it to collapse like a house of cards.

The pain in his side seemed to have magnified. He could use some prescription-strength drugs right about now. Something to numb the pain, to make him forget just how fucked up he truly was.

"Eric?"

Of fucking course, Jason would pick this moment to intrude.

"You okay, man?"

 _Learn to read the fucking room Jason!_

He took a deep breath to soothe his frayed nerves. It wasn't fair to lash out on Jason just because the dumbfuck cared enough to ask.

Looking up, he forced himself to smirk. "You don't happen to have a bottle of bourbon, do you?"

* * *

 **E/S**

Jason fixed him a sandwich - ham and cheese with a thick spread of mayo. He hated mayonnaise but at this point he was too exhausted to give a damn. A crappy meal for a crappy day.

Jason poured him a glass of sweet tea instead before he sat on the chair across from him.

"Sorry we don't keep liquor in the house. We have light beer but I'm under strict orders from Sook not to give you any alcoholic beverage while you're on medication."

Eric picked up the sandwich and took a big bite, well aware of his audience. The fuck was with these people and their fascination to watch him eat.

An awkward silence descended.

There was a reason men hang out in front of the television.

"Is there something you want to ask me Jason?"

Jason shrugged and shook his head. "Nah, Gran used to tell me stickin' my nose in someone else's business ain't gonna do me any good."

"She sounds like a wise woman."

"She was."

Eric put his sandwich down and sipped his tea. Like it or not, he needed Jason's help. It was time to start his pitch.

"I was robbed," Eric started.

"Yeah, I know. It sucks but -"

"No. I'm not talking about the mugging. I was _robbed_ … in New York. My company – I mean, the one I'm working for - was robbed." He wasn't ready to give Jason all the gory details so he opted for broad strokes.

Jason's brows drew together, lines creasing his forehead, as he waited for Eric to elaborate.

Damn, this would be harder than he thought.

"I work for a stock insurance firm, which is about to go public in a couple of weeks. One of my associates screwed us up and took the company's – more like our clients'– money and disappeared. The company's under fire."

"How much money did your associate steal?"

"Enough to give you cold sweats and nightmares."

"Fuck."

"Fuck, indeed."

Jason palmed the five o'clock shadow on his jawline, looking contemplative. "If your company's under fire, does that mean you are too? How much did you invest in that company?"

"A lot."

"Enough to give you cold sweats and nightmares?"

Eric nodded.

"Man, how loaded are you?"

Eric paused to think. Did he really trust Jason enough to tell him his net worth?

"I'm comfortable, but my life's pretty complicated." He omitted the part where his assets were currently in the ice. He wanted Jason to think he was still someone worth saving.

Jason regarded him closely. "Why would your associate do that? I mean, I get the motivation behind it, but to screw you over like that was hard core."

Eric was the first to admit he had been careless. He should have vetted Felipe De Castro thoroughly before hiring him as his Chief Financial Officer.

"I used to be a broker. Y'know like Leo DiCaprio in the Wolf of Wall Street?"

"I know what a broker is. I dated one a few years ago."

"Okay." Eric nodded. Maybe it wouldn't be so hard. "So as I've said I was a broker. I was aggressive but calculated which made me pretty good at my job. Then in 2007, at the peak of economic trading, I pulled out all my stocks and advised my clients to do the same. It came as a shock to my colleagues. They thought it was a stupid move. Then, bam, the 2008 recession came down like a ton of bricks. I was accused of insider trading. Somehow I knew it was coming. But I honestly didn't, I just had good instinct. I studied the market's health. I stood by Newton's law that 'what goes up must come down' and that's when I saw the risks and decided to cut back. My colleagues were outraged. They felt cheated and called for an investigation. I came out clean. I had nothing to hide but that didn't assuage them. So I lay low for a few years, then when the economy started moving up again I started looking into the insurance firms."

"What does that have to do with the stolen money?"

"The person who stole from us was also a broker who was hit hard by the recession. When he came to me, I thought it would give him a chance to bounce back, give him a clean slate. I have never been so wrong."

"That is so fucked up." Jason shook his head. "What're you goin' to do about it?"

"I don't know." And that was the cold hard truth. He had no idea where to go from there. "My associates in New York are working on finding that asshole."

"Do you trust them?"

"Some of them, yes. Some, no." His thoughts went to his manipulative father again, making him clench his jaw. "But I have to work with the hand I'm dealt."

"I understand," Jason said after a few. It didn't seem like Jason really did, but Eric decided to leave it at that. "Is there anything I can do?"

That was the opening Eric had been waiting for.

"Actually... y'see given my current state, I'm wondering if you can let me stay here for a few days just until the situation in New York is resolved."

Jason started chewing his lip, seemingly unsure how to respond.

"It will only be a few days, Jason. Until my friend can send me the money I need to fly back to Manhattan. And I'll pay you of course, for board and lodging."

Jason, whose head seemed to be somewhere else, nodded and said, "Yeah, of course. Of course you can stay here."

Eric wasn't sure Jason had heard him at all. "You sure? Don't you need to discuss it with your sister? Because I know for fact that she doesn't like me so much."

"Sookie?" Jason chortled. "She'll be okay with it. And she doesn't hate you. She's just like that with strangers. She gets a little crazy and overly protective."

"You're older, right?" Eric had to ask. He was too curious to pass up the opportunity to probe.

Jason bobbed his head. "Don't let my dimples fool you," he said with a grin.

"Yet _she's_ protective of _you_."

"Yeah, because of this." Then without another word Jason swiveled to the side so Eric could see him raise his right leg before he pulled his cargo pants up to reveal a prosthetic leg.

Eric was rendered speechless as he bent lower to study the artificial limb attached below his knee.

"I'm Iron Man," Jason beamed like a kid on Halloween. "Actually it's made of titanium but Iron Man sounds cooler than Titanium Man."

"How… when… why…" Eric found himself stuttering. He had never seen prosthesis this close before. And it was incredible and depressing at the same time.

Jason let go of his cargo pants as he put his foot back down.

"I had it since I was sixteen."

Eric couldn't help but sympathize. "Sorry man."

Jason waved his hand dismissively. "Don't be. D'you have any idea how many dates I've scored with this baby? Chicks dig it. Makes me look badass and brooding."

"What happened?"

"Shit happened. There was an incident and it cost me a leg." He shrugged. "I've lived with this for over a decade. It doesn't bother me anymore."

Eric stared at Jason in disbelief. How could someone so messed up be this fucking happy?

"How can you be so cool with this?"

"I wasn't always like this, bud. The first couple of years were rough. I was always so angry. Imagine in one night, I went from a hotshot QB to a one-legged freak. I was a walking advertisement for teen angst. The kids in school who used to cheer for me treated me like cancer. Guess no one wanted to be friends with a moody freak. You know why I don't sweat Big Al's taunts? It's because I've heard worse. Teenagers could be jackasses. So I shut everyone out including my Gran and my sister. Losing my leg brought out the worst in me. I became depressed. Gran and Sookie were saints for putting up with me."

"They're your family," was all Eric could contribute.

Jason shook his head lightly. "Nah, it's not just that. Gran and Sook blamed themselves for my leg and I was the prick who manipulated that guilt."

Jason's gaze went far. Eric could practically feel the shame emanating from him. It was weirdly stimulating.

"Why did Sookie feel accountable for what happened to you?" Eric couldn't stop himself. He had to know. Did she push him off the stairs? Ran him over with her bike? Egged him to climb a tree and jump? If Sookie had a mean streak, Eric wanted to know.

"It's not her fault." There was a tone of finality in Jason's tone.

It was pretty clear that Jason was hiding something - something that concerned Sookie. And for the life of him, amidst all the atrocities that had happened today, he found himself more intrigued with one Sookie Stackhouse.

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric.**

 **This is way overdue. My apologies my lovelies. As always, your thoughts are very much appreciated.**

 **This chapter won't be ready without the eagle eyes of the awesome MsStitcher! Love you, R!**

 **Much love!**


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: Apologies, m'loves, for not replying to your thoughtful reviews. I was on a holiday with family and didn't have access to my laptop. To make up for my rudeness, I give you a new chapter. Hope you like it!**

* * *

She bit her lip to stifle another grin.

Dog burn it, what was wrong with her?

She should have been appalled or at the very least, indignant.

He had sported a hard-on in front of her. What was so damn arousing with her cleaning his wound?

Hmm… was he fantasizing about her?

Okay, so maybe there was a teeny-tiny part in her that was flattered at how his body reacted at her ministration. He wasn't hard on the eyes, that one was a fact. He had this bad boy allure that was quite difficult to ignore.

Ah, there's the rub. Sookie wasn't fond of bad boys. Bad boys were good and titillating in romance novels but not in real life.

Bad boys equaled heartache.

Bad boys were, in a word, bad.

She'd be damned to get infatuated with the likes of him.

As her Gran used to say: _I may have been born at night but not last night_.

The longer Eric Rothman was in their care, the more befuddling it got for her. She couldn't wait to get him out of her hair.

Besides, Eric couldn't be interested in her. No freaking way. It was clear he didn't like her monologue about Big Al and Jason. Perhaps it was their mutual dislike of each other that roused the sexual tension.

She shook her head to stop herself from getting flustered. _Again_.

"Lord help us, she's grinnin' again," Sookie heard Arlene croon, followed by a chorus of giggles from Dawn and Maudette.

Sookie turned to them. She had an inkling she was the source of their amusement.

The looks on their faces confirmed her suspicion.

"Finally, she's back on Earth," Dawn announced. "Damn girl you've been givin' that ketchup bottle a hand job for hours. Are you practicing for somethin' Sook?"

Sookie's gaze fell on the red condiment bottle in her hand and felt her cheeks warm up. She quickly put the bottle back in the condiments' rack by the order window along with the mustard and the hot sauce.

Tara, who was behind the bar, wiping the counter and obviously listening in on the barmaids' conversation rolled her eyes and curled her finger at Sookie motioning her to come closer to the bar.

Sookie crossed over to the bar and slipped into one of the high stools. It wasn't a busy night at Merlottes with only two tables occupied. It was already ten minutes past seven and the dinner crowd had yet to show up. It wasn't shocking though, Wednesdays were usually dry, which was why they close up earlier on Wednesdays. Sookie had been looking forward to having an early night – cold beer, warm tub, soft bed.

"Start talkin'," Tara always shot straight to the point.

"Talk about what?"

"C'mon Sook, we've been watchin' you. You look like you were havin' a wet dream with your eyes open."

"I'm not!" she spat a little too defensively.

"Is it Alcide? I heard he's back."

Sookie bit hard, swallowing the bitterness that sprung up her throat. Was she the last person in Louisiana to find out he was back in town?

"How'd you know?"

"Momma told me this mornin'. She said Alcide came by the Parish to see Reverend Daniels yesterday to talk about some kind of fundraiser for the earthquake victims in Nepal."

"Oh."

"It's him, isn't it? He's the only one who can make your panties drop."

Sookie lapsed into silence, feeling a twinge of guilt for having completely forgotten about Alcide.

"Y'know what, s'okay, I don't need the details. 'Sides I have somethin' that can take your mind off of McSteamy."

Yes, that was what she needed, a diversion. She leaned in closer, giving her best friend her full attention.

"Y'know Momma and Reverend Daniels are gettin' married, right?"

"Of course. It's this Friday, yeah? Am I invited? I didn't get any invite."

Tara shot her a look. "Family doesn't need invite bitch."

Sookie smiled. They were family.

"Okay, so the person who volunteered to make their cake came down with a nasty flu. I suggested that you could make the cake."

Sookie gaped at her friend. "Me?"

"Yeah, you. You know how to bake. And I bet you can do a better job at it. It's nothin' grand. Momma only wants a simple red velvet, like the one you made for Gran's birthday two years ago."

Sookie fell silent. Baking was how Sookie and her grandmother spent their Sundays after church. When her Gran died, Sookie's love for making pastries died along with her.

"I haven't baked anythin' in a year, Tara. I don't know if my mixer still works."

"Then get a new one," Tara lobbed. "Better yet, do it here. I'm sure Sam won't mind. Momma'll pay you. You need this. You always tell me you need a sideline. This can be it. You can be the next Paula Deen. Lord knows we need a new one."

Sookie chuckled. She could use the extra money. Especially with Jason taking on fatherhood and God knows what else.

"I don't know what to say Tara."

"I think the word you're lookin' for is 'Thanks'," Tara grinned.

"Thanks bestie."

"Ow hell no." Tara wagged her finger. "Besties are for hussies. I'll settle for bitch."

"Thank you, bitch."

"You're welcome, whore." Tara tipped her head to the door. "Head's up, your bionic brother's here."

Sookie swiveled her stool to see Jason coming toward her, scratching the back of his neck.

 _Uh-oh._

* * *

 **E/S**

Sookie's foot pressed on the brake pedal hard - making the tires screech and grind against the gravel in the driveway - out of sheer frustration.

Jason's truck was nowhere to be seen, which meant her stupid brother had ignored her pleas and still went to Fantasia to visit Crystal.

That wasn't even the worst thing as she recalled her conversation with him at Merlottes a few hours earlier.

" _I knew it. I fucking knew it," Sookie grumbled as she kicked a pebble in the staff parking lot._

" _Only for a few days, Sook. He's in a real bind. You should've seen him while he was on the phone. He looked like he was about to burst an artery."_

" _We're not runnin' a B and B, Jase. Why couldn't he ask his friends to come and get him?"_

" _Aren't you listenin' to me?" The exasperation in Jason's voice was thick. "He'd been screwed. His associates were also in a pickle. It'll take time to come up with the money he needs to get back to New York."_

" _Well if you trust him this much then why don't we just lend him the money for the plane ticket and he can wire it back to us."_

" _Have you seen him, Sook? The man's not fit to travel."_

 _Sookie couldn't argue with that._

" _How long?"_

" _One week tops."_

 _Sookie leaned against the hood of Jason's truck, defeated. She knew it was one argument she'd never win._

She fished for her keys inside her sling bag. She couldn't believe this. Not only did Jason strike a deal with Eric behind her back, he had the audacity to leave their guest alone in the house.

What if Eric was con man? A thief? A serial killer? Or worse…

Damn it, she was going to sleep with her sawed off tonight.

All the lights were turned on. From the porch, the kitchen, the living room, all the way to the bathroom upstairs.

Sookie passed by the guest room –which was Gran's old bedroom – to peer at their unwanted guest. She had agreed to let Eric use Gran's room because it had the biggest bed and was closest to the bath.

The lamps on both sides of the four-poster bed were lit, providing a soft glimmer on the man sleeping under the sheets.

She kept the door ajar, enough to give him privacy, before she marched toward her own chamber.

Armed with a pair of white cotton pajamas and her pink fluffy bathrobe, she trudged to the bathroom to take a long hot bath.

"Sonofabitch!" she exclaimed as she took in the sight in front of her.

The tiles of the bathroom floor were wet and soapy that she almost slipped. Luckily she was able to grab onto the edge of the white porcelain sink, which was also damp, before she could dive head first on the ground. There was a used razor blade in the sink, along with a small tube of toothpaste and a disposable toothbrush.

Eric's discarded pants, scrub top and wet towel were strewn pell mell in the tub. She could only say a small prayer of gratitude that his underwear wasn't in the pile.

Was he even wearing one? She couldn't bring herself to dwell on it as she stormed out of the bathroom and into the guest room, ready to raise hell.

Who the fuck did he think he was, Prince fucking Charles? Did he really expect her to pick up after him, tend to his every need at a ring of a bell?

 _You've got another think coming, buster._

"Eric!" she hissed when she reached the side of his bed, clutching her clothes and robe, fighting the urge to kick the side of the bed. "Eric, wake up."

"Sylvie…" he moaned, turning to the side with his eyes still shut.

"It's _Soo-kie_ ," she gritted.

His hand shot up as though searching for something. She took it with the intention of yanking him awake.

Then she felt it. His hand was warm, too warm. She dropped her clothes on the floor and hunkered down to take a better look at him. He was pale - paler than normal. He was wearing one of Jason's black tank tops, which had hiked up to his stomach, revealing the dangling gauze where his wound was supposed to be.

She cupped his temple with her palm, brushing back his hair. Her eyes widened in panic. He had a fever.

Standing up, she dashed to the wall beside the doorjamb to flick the switch of the fluorescent light. Sprinting back to his side, she began to check on his wound for infection. The gauze wasn't taped properly so it untangled as he rolled on to his side. His suture was still intact with no sign of pus or watery discharge.

"Eric," her voice was softer now as she shook his shoulder. He writhed and moaned again. Shit, was he delirious?

Sookie ran to her room to get the medical kit from her drawer along with her sling bag. She found the infrared thermometer and aimed it at his forehead. It pinged thrice, signaling an abnormal temperature. She read the scan: 101.3 Fahrenheit.

 _Shit._

She reached for her phone inside the bag and began dialing her brother's number. If Eric was having a septic shock, she would have to bring him to the hospital.

Jason's phone rang as the bed trembled.

 _Fuck._

She lifted the thin floral blanket covering Eric's leg and saw Jason's phone vibrating to her call. Jason must have left his cell with Eric, in case his 'associates' from New York called. _Genius._

She tried Crystal's mobile but her call went straight to voice mail. _Damn it._

Staring at her phone, she started scrolling for the emergency number for the Bon Temps clinic. She would request an ambulance. Yes, that's what she'd do. As she was scrolling down, her thumb halted.

 _Alcide._

They had exchanged numbers last night before she left the hospital. Without much deliberation, she pressed it and put the phone against her ear. It took three rings before...

"Hello?" Alcide grumbled.

"Did I wake you?" she asked, forgoing the usual preamble. "It's Sookie."

"I know," he murmured. "Is there something wrong?"

"It's Eric. He's running a fever. I'm afraid he's having a septic shock. Jason isn't home. I can't wake Eric up. And…"

 _I'm afraid,_ she wanted to add but didn't. She was rambling, terrified. She knew the mortality rate of people who had septic shock post-surgery and it frightened her to even think of Eric's odds.

"Sookie, Sookie, calm down." There was a pause as she heard a commotion from the other line. Like something crashing against the floor. "What's his temperature?"

"One hundred one point three."

"Okay, it's not that high."

 _Not that high?_ She wanted to yell at Alcide. What number did he consider high enough before it was socially acceptable for her to panic?

"Is he having chills?"

She grazed her hand against the length of his arms.

"No."

"Is he having delusions?"

Was moaning her name considered a delusion?

"I don't think so."

"Okay, so here's what we're gonna do: I'm gonna go to your house. I can be there in half an hour. You just stay calm and keep him comfortable until I get there. Can you do that?"

Of course she could. She wasn't an imbecile. And she hated how Alcide was making her feel like one.

"I'll be there soon."

Sookie bobbed her head even though she knew Alcide wouldn't see her response. She was beyond caring at that point.

* * *

 **E/S**

Alcide took twenty-two minutes to get to the farmhouse. Yes, she timed it. It was the only thing she could do after she placed a cold washcloth on Eric's forehead.

"How's he doing?" Alcide asked as Sookie led him to the guest room.

"I checked his temp five minutes ago, still one-oh-one."

Alcide, who was wearing a white wife beater and a pair of jeans, strolled inside the room and went straight to his unconscious patient. He hunkered down and took out a penlight from the small khaki knapsack he brought.

"No sign of abscess," Alcide murmured for Sookie's benefit as he gingerly pressed on the area surrounding the stitches. Eric jerked but his eyes remained shut. "Has he been taking his meds?"

Sookie opened her mouth to say yes then thought better of it. Truthfully, she wasn't certain, and this was no time to make wild guesses.

"I'll go check," she replied as hurried out of the room. She might have spotted Eric's pill bottle on the kitchen table when she went to get water earlier.

She was right. She was like a girl on fire as she zoomed back into the bedroom. She handed Alcide the orange container and stepped aside as the doctor pour the contents in his sizable palm.

"Just as I thought. Eric missed two doses. He's s'pposed to take three a day." Alcide was shaking his head. "It's common for patients like him to get low-grade fever especially if he's not taking the prescribed dose of antibiotics. His body is forced to work harder to ward off infection, thus triggering the fever."

Sookie knew that. It was Fever 101. She dropped her gaze on her feet, feeling embarrassed. This was why she failed her MCAT because of her lack of focus.

Darting her gaze to the bed toward Alcide's unconscious patient, she felt a sudden rush of rage. She wanted to yank Eric out of bed and slap him over and over. How could he be so careless? He had one job. How could he forget his one fucking job?

 _He could have died!_

Fuming, she excused herself, exited the bedroom and raced into the bathroom to splash her face with cold water. Staring at her reflection in the mirror, she couldn't help but sigh. She was all over the place – then her eyes landed on the bath tub - _just like those clothes_.

Stomping like a petulant child, she gathered Eric's dirty clothes and marched back down to the kitchen. They didn't have a laundry room only a laundry space near the fridge. She opened the washer and dumped the prince's soiled clothes one by one starting with the scrub top, followed by the damp towel, which was thankfully the same color as the blue top. She contemplated doing a separate wash for the pants but decided to 'go green' and chucked it in too.

The Southerner in her couldn't do it though. If she were to do something, she might as well do it right. So before she could rebut her own argument, she pulled the denim trousers out of the machine to soak it with cold salt water first to lift the dried bloodstain. She was getting a basin in the closet under the kitchen counter when something fell out of the pants' pocket, making a tinkling sound against the hardwood floor. Curious, she picked it up.

 _What the-_

It was a ring. A huge ass diamond ring that made her jaw plummet to the floor.

"Sookie?" Alcide's voice knocked the sense back to her.

Sookie balled her hand to hide the ring in her palm as she bolted upward to look at Alcide.

"I'm done. He woke up after you left but only for a couple of minutes; he's still pretty groggy. I gave him ibuprofen for his fever. His temperature should go down in about an hour. Make sure he takes his antibiotics regularly for seven days. Check his temperature, if it goes one-oh-two or above, call me right away or bring him to the hospital," Alcide prattled on in his clinical tone. "Oh be sure to keep him hydrated. And… avoid any strenuous activities."

Sookie felt her cheeks burn. She didn't have to be a doctor to decipher Alcide's code for sex.

She shut her eyes and shook her head. "Of course, yeah, I understand." She flashed him a meek smile. "Thank you Alcide. You didn't have to come all the way here, but I'm real glad you did."

Alcide beamed at her. "Anything for you, _chère_."

 _Chère_.

The first time he called her that, she couldn't sleep for days. This time though, it only made her uncomfortable. Maybe it was because it sounded a bit forced, like something he had to say to get a point across. Or maybe because she imagined him calling Debbie the same.

"Uhm… can I offer you anythin' to drink? Tea, coffee, beer?"

Alcide shook his head. "As tempting as it sounds, I'm afraid I have to leave. I have a six o'clock shift tomorrow. Rain check?"

"Sure."

Alcide took a step closer and reached for her ball fist that held Eric's secret. "Y'know I have to admit when I first heard about you and Eric, I didn't believe it. But seeing how distraught you were…" His expression was pensive. "Eric is a lucky guy."

Sookie gently pulled her hand out of his grasp. Eric's ring was burning a hole in her palm, making their lie bigger than it should be. "Thanks Alcide."

Alcide gave her a stiff nod.

Sookie led him to the front door and paused at the threshold. "So how much do I owe you for the house call?" she asked, trying to lighten the mood.

Alcide grinned. "First time's free," he quipped with a wink. "Get some rest _chère_." With another nod, he jogged to his white SUV and sped away.

* * *

 **E/S**

At half past midnight, Sookie was ready for bed. She had showered, brushed her teeth, changed into her soft cotton pajamas. His majesty's clothes had been laundered, save for the pants that were soaking in a basin on top of the washer.

As she made her way to her bedroom, she couldn't help but sneak one last peek at her guest. But a peek didn't seem enough as she advanced to the bed.

It had been more than an hour. The medicine should have taken effect by now. Putting her palm against his forehead, she heaved a sigh of relief. His fever had subsided. Eric groaned and turned his head toward her, eyes still closed.

"Sylvie?"

Sookie didn't say a word. She simply looked to the bedside table as the diamond ring winked at her.

"Come back baby," he murmured.

"Eric," she shushed.

"I'm sorry baby… should've asked you to stay."

Sookie watched Eric writhe under the sheets and thought that he might be having a bad dream… or good dream, whatever. If he wouldn't stop moving he was going to unravel his dressing again. She had to make him stay still. Climbing on top of the bed, she took his hand to force him to face her and roll on his side – the uninjured side.

"You're so much trouble, you know that?" she whispered, sweeping the hair off his forehead.

"Mmm-hmm," he hummed.

It felt odd to have a conversation with someone sleeping - odd but somewhat calming.

He looked so peaceful. Like a naughty two-year-old who was down for a nap after painting the walls with peanut butter. She wanted to wake him up to set up some ground rules. To tell him it wasn't right to give her a mini-stroke.

To ask him about the ring.

Pushing herself to a sitting position, she reached for the ring and held it up.

 _Holy crap._

She could work in Merlottes all her life and she still wouldn't afford a diamond this size.

She wondered how it would look around her finger. Before she could stop herself she slipped it in on her finger. It was one size too big. It definitely didn't belong to her.

It was beautiful though.

She held up her hand and smiled.

This ring could put her through med school. It could pay off Crystal's debt. It could give Jason the seed money to start up his own car repair shop. It could solve all their financial woes.

 _Ah, the power of one ring._

Her eyes felt heavy and she let them droop.

Then she heard knocking. More like banging. She leapt off the bed and padded down to the front door. Who could it be? It couldn't be Jason. He had his own keys. Peering through the glass window by the side of the door she saw Alcide's truck on the driveway.

Swinging the door open, she was greeted with the sweaty doctor.

"Alcide?" she asked, confused. "What's wrong? Did you forget anything?"

Alcide panted as he stepped in, making her back away. Closing the door behind him, he stalked toward her.

"What's wrong?" she asked again.

"Tell Eric I'm sorry."

"Sorry for what?"

"For this…" Then with no further explanation he cupped the back of her neck and kissed her.

Her breath got caught in her throat as her knees buckled. She had to hold on to something to keep herself from falling backward so she latched on Alcide's broad shoulders.

 _What is happening?_

 _Why is he kissing me?_

 _And more importantly, why am I not kissing him back?_

Her eyes snapped shut as her lips parted. Alcide quickly thrust his tongue in while she struggled to keep up with him.

Everything was happening so fast. She couldn't think. She could feel Alcide's hand sliding down the length of her back. Her fingers moved up, weaving through his thick black hair. His lips were burning against hers and she was getting lightheaded.

He pulled her flush against him. She felt so tiny compared to his huge frame. He finally pulled away and started placing moist, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of her neck. He was so hot, literally, like heat was radiating out of his pores. She could feel his sweat seeping through her shirt.

"Sorry I took so long, Sook," he husked as he nipped the bottom of her ear.

She threw her head back.

"You were worth the wait," she whispered hoarsely.

"It's always been you," he grumbled against her clavicle.

"What about Debbie?" she had to ask.

"Fuck Sylvie."

 _Sylvie?_

Her eyes burst wide open. She looked down. Her fingers were no longer tangled through unruly black hair, there was only gold, like the color of the waning sun.

She let out a gasp just in time for him to look up.

The man caressing her wasn't Alcide. Not anymore.

"Eric!"

His lips tugged into a lopsided smirk before his large hands framed her face, his thumbs delicately stroking her lips.

"Hello lover," he hushed before his mouth crashed over hers.

She woke up panting, as she pushed herself off the headboard.

 _Oh my God. Oh my God. Oh my God._

Her head whipped to the side and found Eric sleeping peacefully beside her, his long arm draped around her waist.

She untangled his arm around her middle as carefully as her trembling hands could do before she slipped out of the room as quickly and as quietly as she came.

She ran straight to her bedroom closing the door behind her and leaned heavily against it.

What the fuck was that?

Was there an earthquake or was she still shaking?

She held out her hands, palm down in front of her to steady herself. And that was when she saw the ring on her left hand.

She cursed out loud as she pulled it off.

This was how Eric managed to invade her dream - because of this stupid ring.

For Chrissake, hadn't she learned anything from Gollum? Coveting someone else's precious could really drive a person to madness.

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric.**

 **So did you like it? Your thoughts are very much appreciated. Thank you for the continued support. Sorry for the slow burn. They'll get there though, have faith.**

 **As always, this chapter wouldn't be ready without the help of the fabulous MsStitcher. You're a ball of awesomeness, R.**

 **All mistakes are mine.**

 **Love, love, love!**


	9. Chapter 9

Eric had breakfasts in bed before, but never like this.

Never with a man.

This was starting to get really weird.

"How's the coffee? I'm not sure if you're a tea person because I sure am not so -"

"Coffee's fine," Eric cut Jason off as they sat face to face in a very creaky bed. "It's great." _It sucked._ It tasted like rust and the heavy dose of cream didn't help either.

"Sookie's gonna get orange juice. She said you might ask for it so she told me assure you there'll be OJ later."

Eric wished Jason wouldn't talk with his mouth full as he felt spittle of toast land on his forearm.

"Where is she anyway?" he asked.

He cast a glance at the window behind him. The sun was up which wasn't a surprise since it was always sunny in bumfuck Louisiana. But even without a clock, he could tell it was still relatively early. Too early to be woken up with a tray of stale coffee, staler toast and a plate of passable scrambled eggs.

"She went to St. John's - it's a home for the aged center in town. She volunteers there every Monday and Thursday mornings."

Eric's eyebrow rose, he never would have pegged Sookie for an altruist.

 _She lets you stay in her house, jackass. If that isn't altruism, what is?_

His mean inner voice was right; Sookie had taken care of him. Sure, she wasn't exactly the most gracious host but maybe in her cold, crabby way she did like him – or liked him enough to not let him die.

"Did your friend call last night?" Jason asked.

Eric shook his head. Miriam had sent him a text through an unknown number though giving him updates on Pam. She was out on bail but they were worried that their phone lines were being tapped by the Feds in case he tried to contact them. She also noted that Appius had hired a couple of private investigators to track down Felipe and Sandy. Eric didn't reply to both messages. He still didn't agree with most of Miriam's choices and he was afraid he might say something he'd regret later.

"Well they might call today so you can keep my phone. Crystal gave me her old cell; I'll give you my new number later."

He nodded his gratitude. "You didn't have to bring me breakfast, Jason," he said, steering the topic in the other direction.

"It's no big deal, man. You need to fill up to take your meds. Sook said you missed a couple of doses yesterday." Jason handed him his pill bottle. "'Sides I'm trying to earn brownie points from Sook after what happened last night. She's really pissed at me."

 _Pissed? Why?_ Did he miss something?

"Why? What happened last night?"

"You don't remember? Man, you must be real messed up." Jason chuckled. "You had a fever, bud. You were even talkin' in your sleep. You gave Sook a scare. She had to call Alcide."

So _that_ was real. He thought he was dreaming when the doctor woke him up to give him a pill. However, that wasn't the only thing he remembered. He also vaguely recalled Sookie lying next to him, whispering some gibberish. Was that real too?

"The doctor came here last night?"

"Yep, that's what she said. He was gone when I got home."

Eric wondered what else the good doctor did while he was sleeping.

* * *

 **E/S**

There must be something in that damned coffee because for some reason, Eric had managed to doze off again after Jason left his room. Back in New York, he could barely sleep, here in Louisiana that was all he seemed to know how to do.

The good news was, all that snoozing made him feel so much better. His head felt lighter, his joints weren't as brittle as yesterday and he barely noticed the stitch in his side. He could even stretch his legs without feeling urge to cringe. Speaking of urges, he needed to piss. He got off the bed and darted to the bathroom.

He could hear Jason's heavy footsteps downstairs. It was eerie how familiar he had become to the noises the siblings made. Jason was loud and deliberate. Everyone could hear him coming from a mile away. Sookie, on the other hand was stealthier, sneakier. That girl should have a bell or something.

He was washing his hands in the sink when he looked up to study his face in the mirror. He looked well-rested - a man without a care in the world. God he wished that was true.

He went searching for a new dental kit because he was certain he had discarded the disposable toothbrush Jason had given him yesterday – surely, they didn't expect him to use it more than once, right? It was called disposable for a reason. He couldn't find one so he settled for mouthwash. He'd just ask Jason for a new toothbrush later.

He marched back to his room and noticed the clothes folded neatly on top of the old dresser. He saw his jeans, his shirt, the scrub top and a blue plaid shirt that looked comparatively new albeit a little musty. Stepping out of Jason's track suit, he put his old pants on. The too-short track pants made him look like the fucking hulk. He decided to leave the wife beater on. It was too hot and humid to wear sleeves.

He padded down the stairs and saw Jason by the front door.

"Oh good you're up," Jason quipped. "I'm late for work. Tray's been callin' me all morning. There's chicken soup in the stove and bread in the freezer. You know how to toast bread, right? There's also orange juice in the fridge."

Orange juice meant…

"Sookie's back?" he asked a little too eagerly.

"Yes and no. She came home to cook lunch but had to go out again to run a couple of errands in town. She'll probably come home again later to check on you before her shift in Merlottes." Jason rambled on. He was already outside the door. "I really have to run, bud. Help yourself to whatever you need, take your second dose of antibiotics and try not to burn the house, 'kay?"

For someone with prosthetic leg, Jason could move pretty damn fast.

Eric went straight to the kitchen. He was famished and chicken soup sounded so tempting. Opening the fridge, he noticed it was stocked with the most common staples - eggs, juice, milk, yogurt, packs of berries, salad greens - the works. Must be payday, he thought.

He grabbed a bottle of OJ, which hadn't been opened – and started chugging. It was too late before he realized he probably should have used a glass. Ah, hell, he'd just finish the whole thing. He walked over to the stove to inspect his lunch when he heard a ring coming from the living room. Following the sound, he spied a landline attached to the wall near the TV set. It was an old handset model, no surprise there.

He picked it up and pressed the receiver to his ear, while tugging at the spiral wire.

"Hello?"

"Good afternoon, this is Cynthia from Bejewelled Pawnshop. Can I speak to Sookie Stackhouse please?"

"Sookie isn't in right now, can I take a message?"

"Oh, um, okay, it's regarding the ring she sold to us. She forgot to write down her address in the receipt."

 _Ring?_

Eric felt a cold finger poke his spine as he shoved his hand in his right pocket, digging for Sylvie's ring. It was no longer there. Where could it be? Did he take it out of his pants before he took a shower last night?

 _Shit._

He stupidly left it in his pants. The same pants Sookie or Jason had washed. What if Jason found it? Eric knew for a fact that Jason could use the money.

"I'm sorry, did you say ring?" he inquired, hoping his suspicion wasn't true.

"Yup. The diamond ring Sookie brought this morning."

 _Fuck, it's Sookie!_

He scrambled for his other pocket even though he was certain he'd come up empty too.

"I will pass the message to her when she gets home," he said as calmly as he could.

He hooked the phone back up on the wall and started pacing.

There must be some kind of explanation here. He was an analyst. Surely, he would be able to come up with a logical explanation to this.

Sookie wouldn't sell his ring. Could she? Was she really capable of doing something so devious and unscrupulous? Was she really that desperate for cash? Or was she hoping he wouldn't find out? That he'd somehow chalk it up to the mugging and stabbing.

He didn't get the chance to think much further as he heard a car pulling over the driveway. He could already tell it was Sookie. Her car always made that hacking sound every time she turned off the engine.

He made his way to the front door while constantly reminding himself to keep it cool. To at least give her a chance to explain. That would be the plan.

He pulled the door wide open just as she reached for the knob.

She jumped back. "Cheeses, you scared me!" she rattled as she sidestepped to get through the entrance. She was carrying two big shopping bags in both hands. His first instinct was to help her but the mere sight of those bags infuriated him, knowing exactly where her money came from.

"Have you had lunch? Did you take your antibiotics? Alcide said it's important to stick to the prescribed doses. We can't have you running a fever again," she prattled on as she marched inside the living room. "I made soup. It's my Gran's recipe. I thought after the night you had you could use a substantial meal."

"You went shopping," he stated as he tailed her with scrutinizing eyes.

"Oh," she darted a glance at the bags and smiled meekly. "Yeah. Just a few stuff. Actually they're for -"

He couldn't restrain himself anymore. He had to ask.

"Did you at least get a good deal for it?" he cut her off.

"Good deal for these?" she asked, confused.

He'd give her an A for acting.

"For my ring. The one you found in my pocket and sold off." So much for letting her explain. He had no time to chastise himself as he went straight for the jugular.

"Your what?"

"Skip the bull, Sookie. I know you found my ring. I also know that you sold it off earlier today to Bejewelled Pawnshop. Oh, by the way, Cynthia called, she said you were in such a hurry to leave their shop you forgot to give them your address."

He spied Sookie's neck tightening as she stared at him with her big, wide eyes. This was what Bambi must have looked like caught in the headlights.

He crossed his arms over his chest as he waited for her come up with some lame excuse.

She blinked. He could see tears pooling in the rims of her eyes. He almost felt sorry for her. Almost.

"Do you really think I wouldn't find out?" he spat, leaning closer.

"Take off your pants," she husked.

He drew up short.

 _What?_

He must not have heard her right. Was she asking him to strip? What was her plan? Give him a head and hope that would make them even?

"Take off your damn pants!" she repeated, her lips trembling.

When he didn't make a move she started clawing at his waistband, unbuttoning his jeans with her tiny fingers. He could feel her knuckles grazing his dick under the gauzy material of the disposable briefs Jason bought from the drugstore the night before.

He was too flabbergasted to retreat as Sookie undid his fly and yanked the flap of his pants before she stepped back.

Looking down, he saw it - the small square scrap of cloth sewn on the inner lining of his pocket. He pressed the makeshift patch and felt the round familiar bulge along with the pointy edge of the pricey rock.

"I sewed it. So you wouldn't lose it again." Her voice was raspy, as though she was on the verge of crying. He didn't dare look up, scared to let her see the shame written on his face. "I didn't sell your ring, Eric. I sold mine."

Before he could utter anything intelligible, she stormed out of the house. As he heard the sound of her car pulling away, all he could think of was how big of a dick he was.

* * *

 **E/S**

He tried calling her but she wasn't answering her phone. She must have known it was him. He wanted to call Jason but, really what was there to say? Sookie had probably told her brother what he did by now.

He fucked up. Royally. Mightily. Unforgivably.

What the hell was happening to him? He was better than that. How did he get here? Everything snowballed so fast, it felt like he was caught in a fucking avalanche of shit.

Not only was he homeless, wounded, poor as dirt, on the lam from the Feds, but he also managed antagonize the only people who took him in when he had nothing.

The rational thing to do was leave. He couldn't face her. God, no. Not after what he did. She would probably kick him out anyway. He should probably leave a note:

 _Sorry I accused you of theft_.

 _Sincerely,_

 _Dickhead._

Better leave now while he still had a shred of dignity left.

Dignity? He almost laughed out loud. Who the hell was he kidding? He had nothing left. Well, except for Sylvie's stupid ring.

He could feel his former fiancée's ring burning a hole in Sookie's improvised pocket. The damned ring had been nothing but a curse. It was more trouble than it was worth. If it wasn't for it, he wouldn't have been stabbed. If it wasn't for it, Sookie wouldn't have stormed out of her own house, fuming. If it wasn't for it, he might even have a stab at forging a decent relationship with her.

He should just sell this stupid thing off and get the fuck out of here. He could pay off the Stackhouses and leave Louisiana for good.

Leave Sookie for good.

It seemed like a good plan but nothing about felt good.

So he waited. He ate his meal, - probably his last - took his pill and sat in the porch swing to wait for his judgement.

Jason arrived first. He came home a little past six.

"Hiya bud!" Jason beamed at him as he climbed the patio steps.

Jason seemed to be in a jovial mood. Eric wondered if he had spoken to his sister yet.

Jason leaned against the railing and studied him closely. "Man, you look pale. Well… paler than usual." His eyes rounded. "Oh shit, d'you have a fever again? Dammit, Sook's gonna kill me."

Jason tapped the back of his hand on Eric's forehead. Eric shook Jason's hand off his temple. He wished Jason would stop being so goddamned nice to him for once. He already felt shitty and all this hovering was not doing him any good.

"I'm okay Jason."

Jason sighed out loud. "Why do you look like shit then? Did something happen again? Was it New York? Did your friend call?"

"Have you talked to your sister?"

Jason's mouth curved into a toothy grin. "Yeah. She dropped by the shop earlier to give me somethin."

"She didn't tell you anything?"

"Nope. She didn't even get out of the car. Why?"

He let out sigh. "I screwed up. Big time," he murmured, his shoulders slumping under the weight of his admission.

Jason's smile slowly disappeared as Eric recounted the events of that afternoon. He started with the phone call from Bejewelled Pawnshop up to the part where he accused Sookie of selling his ex-fiancee's ring.

It was agonizing to give Jason all the details but Eric thought he owed Sookie that much after the stunt that he pulled. Knowing how protective the siblings were with each other, he wouldn't be surprised if Jason threw him out on the street himself.

The porch swing groaned as Jason sat beside him. The older Stackhouse had not spoken a word throughout his narration.

Eric could literally hear crickets in the air as he waited for Jason's reaction.

"I can't believe she did that," Jason whispered at last before he buried his face in his palms.

"I'm sorry?"

Eric was confused. Jason couldn't believe Sookie did _what_? Jason must have not been paying attention because clearly his response was way off.

Jason was shaking his head as he looked up. "So that's how she got the money." He bent down to pull a brown manila envelope from his boot. "This is why she went to the shop, to give me this. She pulled away before I had the chance to look inside. It's seven g's."

"To pay off Crystal's debt," Eric hushed, recalling the siblings' conversation yesterday about Jason's pregnant girlfriend.

Jason bobbed his head. "I called her and asked about it but she keeps just blowin' me off. So I thought what the hell, what's the point at lookin' a gift horse in the mouth." Jason groaned. "I should've known Sook would do somethin' incredibly stupid like this for me."

"I don't understand. Why was that stupid?"

"After our parents died, Gran gave me Daddy's watch and Sook got Momma's ring. I sold the watch for that truck," Jason tipped his chin toward the red Ford F-150 on the driveway. "I told Sook she should sell Momma's ring to replace her old clunker. She refused of course. She loved that ring; said she'd never give it up for anything."

"Anything but you," Eric said what Jason couldn't.

Jason huffed. "Told you my sister's a saint." He turned sideways and homed in on Eric. "And you, you're a son of a bitch for thinking otherwise."

Eric shrunk in his seat as he hung his head, looking suitably chastised. "I know. I'm an idiot. I'm sorry. I understand if you want me gone."

"Oh nonono," Jason shook his head rapidly while wagging his finger. "You're not gettin' away that easy man."

Eric furrowed his brows.

"We both know what you need to do."

"I need to apologize to Sookie."

"Damn straight."

Eric slumped in the swing, feeling the weight of what he was about to do. Goddamn, why couldn't Jason just kick him out?

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric.**

 **Happy holiday weekend!**

 **Sorry this was a tad late. I was actually planning on posting this on my wordpress site. Then I realized I wasn't as tech savvy as I thought I was. In the past week alone, I have spent a lot of quality time hunched over my notebook - pulling my bangs (yes, people I have bangs, don't judge, I'm growing them out) every time I listen to someone explain what CSS, RSS and short codes are on youtube - trying to decipher how to make that darned site readable at the very least. So while I work on that, I'll keep posting here. Hopefully my next post will be on my precious site. I am encouraging – and by encouraging, I really mean begging - you guys to follow me there too.**

 **Enough about me... how was your holiday? Hope y'all had fun! I, for one, am thankful for having awesome friends like you, who never fail to inspire with your thoughtful reviews (*wink*). I am also thankful for having MsStitcher, who always find the time to lend her eagle eyes.**

 **All mistakes are mine.**

 **Much love!**


	10. Chapter 10

This was supposed to be a good day. She was up by six without feeling the urge to hit the snooze button on her alarm, which was surprising considering how restless she was the night before.

She was at St. John's before most of the staff came in. Mrs. Hill, the grouchy 74-year-old widow diagnosed with clinical depression, actually cracked a smile when she served her breakfast - oatmeal with a pinch of Xanax. The old lady didn't groan in protest when Sookie asked to join their regular game of Bridge that morning.

By the time she left the center three hours later, she was as high as a kite.

It only got better when the first jeweller she went to agreed to her terms. Her mother's vintage one-carat, round-cut diamond ring on a 14K white gold made the manager sweat during appraisal. He offered to take it off her hand for five grand but Sookie didn't need to see the Rapaport Report to tell it cost a lot more. So after much haggling, they settled for eight thousand, which was the magic number for Sookie. Her brother's monetary dilemma would be solved and she would have enough leftover to kick-start her patisserie business.

Not bad indeed.

She was in such a jolly mood that morning that she was actually looking forward to see Eric. If it wasn't for his ring, she never would have thought of selling her mother's ring.

All was good with the world until she went home and got ambushed by a jackass.

Work had been her ally for the rest of the day. It was a welcome distraction. She didn't even realize it was time to punch out until Sam asked her to close up shop. Most of her coworkers had gone home by the she locked up. They were too busy with their own lives to notice how troubled she was. She liked it that way; she was in no mood to talk anyway.

Jason stopped by during dinner rush. He walked in while she was busy jotting down orders. One look at his goofy smile and she could that tell he knew about the ring.

He pulled her in a bear hug - squeezing her so tight she thought her eyes would pop out of their sockets. Then he whispered, "I know what you did." He sounded like a serial killer in a B-movie. And Sookie liked it so much it nearly brought her to tears. Jason didn't need to say 'thank you', his embrace said it all.

Tara asked what was with the rare PDA – which was short for Public Display of Awkwardness in Tara's lingo. Sookie merely shrugged and Tara mouthed 'your brother's weird'. He was. Weirdness ran in the family.

The brief lovefest was enough to take her mind off of their egomaniac guest for the rest of her shift.

Sadly it wasn't enough to make her forget it entirely.

Dragging her feet out of the bar, she couldn't seem to shake off that dreary feeling in her chest.

She reached the staff parking lot and eyed her lonely yellow car.

She checked her phone, 11:10 p.m. God, she hoped Eric was doing what he did best: _sleep_. She couldn't stand him anymore. To see that smug face again was torture enough.

She let out a loud grunt. Eric had done the impossible. He made her dread going home.

As she was fishing for her car key she heard a rustling noise. It was coming from the heavily-wooded space behind the parking lot. It was where teenagers would sneak in a couple of beers, smoke joint and take a piss. It was also a hunting ground for squirrels, snakes, raccoons and the occasional coyotes.

She picked up her pace and was already a few steps away from her car when she heard a crack, like a twig snapping. Something was definitely out there, something big like a bear or, heaven forbid, a man.

She had three choices. In her bag she had a pocket knife and an emergency whistle – Sam gave them to all his staff – one blow and her boss would come rushing from his trailer. Or she could chance it with her sawed-off inside the car, under the driver's seat. She doubted she'd have enough time to open the door and dive for the shotgun, though.

She grabbed the whistle and bit it as she searched for her pocket knife. Should she yell out a warning? Nah, too dangerous. Better safe than dead, her brother used to say.

Better safe than dead.

She blew on the whistle hard. The leaves on the nearby trees flap and swoosh as a figure emerged, running, almost tripping over his own feet.

The whistle flew out of her mouth as she gaped at the incoming intruder.

"Eric?"

Eric stood before her, arms up in surrender.

"What the hell are you doing back there?"

He dropped his arms and pocketed his hands, giving her a nervous smile. "I…" he cleared his throat, as though he was about to say something mortifying. "I was waiting for you. I didn't want anyone to see me so I hid behind your car."

She blinked in confusion. "How did you get here?"

"Jason gave me a ride."

"But." She started shaking her head. "I saw Jason hours ago. He never said anythin' about you waitin' here."

"I asked him not to tell you."

"Why?"

"Because I… uhm," his voice trailed off.

"Because you're chicken shit?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, something like that."

Sookie studied him closely. He was wearing his gray shirt now and she could see tiny red spots across the length of his arms. Mosquito bites, she presumed.

"Are you tellin' me you've been sitting there behind my car for hours?"

"The mosquitoes kept me company. I even kept one as a souvenir." He stretched his arm to show her the squashed mosquito sticking to his skin.

"Haven't you heard of Dengue or Malaria?" She shook her head in disapproval.

"Had Malaria before. Wasn't so bad."

She narrowed her eyes at him. He was still so goddamn cocky.

"Why didn't you just wait for me at home?"

"I wasn't sure if I was still welcome in your house after what I did." He dropped his gaze to the ground, looking positively contrite.

She wasn't sure if it was an act. But by God, it was working.

"I'm sorry," he spoke softly. "What I did was inexcusable. You and your brother had done nothing but help me. It was wrong of me to assume the worst in you."

Sookie couldn't help but sigh.

"Look Eric…"

"Sook?" a voice called out from behind her.

It was Sam.

Her employer, hair ruffled as always, came bounding with his shotgun cocked at Eric.

"Are you okay? I heard a whistle. Was that you?"

Sookie stepped in front Eric protectively and turned around.

"Hey boss!" she chirped, flashing her crazy smile. "Sorry false alarm. The good news is, your whistle works."

 _Although it took you five minutes to get here_.

If she had been in real danger, she would have been dead by now.

Sam didn't look convinced as he drew a bead on Eric.

"Is that guy botherin' you?" he asked, eyeing Eric suspiciously.

"Oh no, nonono," Sookie giggled. "He's um… he's my boyfriend."

Sam's arms went limp at the revelation. "Your what?"

 _Goddammit. Why is that so shocking?_

She kept her smile intact as stepped to the side so Sam could take a closer look at her 'boyfriend'.

"Eric, this is Sam Merlotte, my boss. Sam, this is Eric my…"

"Lover," Eric finished her sentence for her as he stuck out his hand for Sam.

Sookie stiffened, remembering specific scenes from her dream the previous night.

Sam took Eric's hand without breaking eye contact with Sookie. "Lover, huh?" He directed his gaze to Eric. "How did you two meet?"

"Tinder," Eric was quick to respond before he let go of Sam's hand.

 _Tinder? What the hell is Tinder?_

"Saw her profile, thought she was cute so I swiped right. Best decision of my life," Eric answered with an offhanded shrug.

"That true Sook?"

"Yup," Sookie smacked her lips together. "He's my dirty little secret."

"Then why did you blow your whistle?" Sam was like a dog with a bone. He just couldn't let go.

"T'was my idea," Eric stepped up to the plate again. "I goaded her to do it."

"Why?"

"Role playing," Eric replied with his signature smirk. "You know… to get things going."

Sookie felt her whole body flaring up. She whipped her head toward Eric to give him a stop-fucking-around look.

"That's too much information hon," she whispered in a syrupy voice.

Sam certainly looked uncomfortable as he rocked on his feet.

Putting his shotgun down, Sam ruffled his hair and coughed.

"You can go back in Sam. Eric and I are just leaving," Sookie said, saving Sam from further awkwardness.

"Yeah, okay."

Eric popped Sookie's door and held it open for her. "Nice to meet you Sam."

Sam replied with a terse nod. He waited until Eric had circled around to the passenger side and slid in before he went to Sookie's window and peered in.

"Drive safe Sook," he said. "And we're gonna need a briefing tomorrow on the proper usage of that whistle. It's for emergencies only. Not a sex toy."

Sookie sank in her seat. She wanted to strangle Eric. In just a few words he managed to shatter her reputation as the local prude and turned her into a girl who cried lover.

"I'm off tomorrow Sam," she said as she turned on the ignition. She didn't know why, but she had a feeling that her absence in Merlottes wasn't such a good thing.

Sookie waved at Sam one more time as the car peeled off the parking lot, leaving Sam alone and seemingly befuddled.

"Does that mean we're good?" Eric broke the silence as Sookie drove off. "I'm forgiven?"

"Nah-ah. Not yet," she said without looking at him. "I just don't want Sam callin' the cops on you. You're already in so much trouble."

Eric fell silent, looking nervous again. Gone was his cocky smirk.

 _Good,_ she mused. _Be afraid. Be very afraid._

The drive home went by quickly.

Jason's truck wasn't in the driveway again, which didn't annoy Sookie anymore. She was expecting him to go to Fantasia tonight, hopefully, for the last time.

They marched to the house in silence with Eric walking two steps behind her. Before she opened the front door, she turned to him.

Time to put him out of his misery.

"I don't hate you. I want to, but I don't have the emotional wherewithal to do that anymore. Besides, I get it. I get where you're coming from. The past couple of days haven't been easy for you. You're here in a strange place, surrounded by people you don't know. If I were in your shoes, I'd be paranoid too."

Eric opened his mouth to say something but she held out a finger to halt him.

"Jason trusts you. Frankly, I don't. But I wanna give it a try. I hope you return the favor 'cause I'm taking a chance on you, Eric. I'm letting you in my home, the least you can do is give me the benefit of the doubt that I won't go and screw you over. Because let's face it, this place right here, this is your rock bottom."

The muscles around his jawline leapt and tightened. She must have hit a sore spot.

"I can go. Say the word and I'm gone."

She chuckled. She had to admire his pride. "What kind of fake girlfriend does that make me if I let you wander off in the streets?"

Her attempt at humor didn't seem to assuage him.

"I'm not in the business of kicking people when they're down, Eric."

"So we're good?"

Sookie chewed her lip to stop herself from smiling. He looked like a stray puppy, and she was a sucker for that – just ask all her friends. So with a nod she turned the handle and swung it open.

"You're inviting me in?" he said in a raspy voice that almost made her knees buckle. Almost.

"I never rescinded your invitation."

They stepped inside and she shut the door behind them, hooking her bag in the coat rack beside the door.

"You do realize you just outed yourself to your boss."

"I am well aware thank you very much," she replied as she strutted to the sofa. "By the way, can you stop callin' me lover? It makes me feel like I'm in a _Sam Smith_ video."

Eric chortled. "Aren't you afraid he'll tell your friends about us?"

"What else is there to do in a small town like this? Let's just hope they find a juicier gossip to sink their teeth into soon." She spotted the shopping bags she brought in earlier. They were still in the sofa, untouched. She picked both of them and handed them to Eric. "I forgot to give you these."

Eric took the bags and peeked inside.

"They're not Calvin Klein, just plain ol' Walmart."

Eric plucked the box of Jockey briefs from the bag. She wished he had chosen to study the set of tank tops instead of the tidy whities.

"These are for me?" he asked, seemingly incredulous.

She shrugged, trying her best to be nonchalant. "I also got you a pair of pants and a couple of shirts. I don't know if you're a boxer or briefs guy so I got you a couple of boxers too. There are also some toiletries in there. I'm not sure which brand of soap and shampoo you use but I'm sure I won't be able to afford them so you'll just have to make do with what you have."

Eric stayed mum as he stared at her. She couldn't read him. She couldn't tell if he was grateful, happy or disappointed. And she learned that when it came to Eric, it was best never to assume anything.

"I don't know what to say," he hushed. "This is… too much."

She waved her hand dismissively. "Please. They're just Walmart."

"Thank you, Sookie." His eyes were fixed on her. They were icy blue, fierce and intense and it was making her stomach flip.

She looked away. She had to. There was no way she could hold that gaze without melting into a puddle.

"It's nothing. It's not like I gave you half of my liver," she started rambling. "You need to put calamine lotion on those bites. I think I have some in my room, I'll go and get it."

With that she raced upstairs and took a cold shower.

 **E/S**

She couldn't sleep. She tried. She tossed and turned. She counted the glow-in-the-dark stars plastered on the ceiling. Still she couldn't get herself to doze off.

She checked the time in the alarm clock by the bedside table. 12:02 a.m. Peeling off the blanket, she swung off the bed and padded downstairs in her white spaghetti strap top and flannel boxer shorts.

She made herself a cup of chamomile tea then marched to the porch.

This was one of those times where she felt blessed to live in the sleepy town of Bon Temps.

Of course she dreamt of the day she'd finally leave the farmhouse to live in the city. But not tonight. Tonight she was more than happy to embrace this life, surrounded by trees where the air was redolent of freshly mowed grass. Where she could see clear skies and admire the moon - full and bright – hear the bullfrogs croaking from the nearby stream and the owls hooting from the cemetary.

She sipped her warm tea and stared at the sprawling lawn. The driveway needed fixing, she mused. _Maybe in December when the weather is much cooler._

"Can't sleep?"

She jerked back, almost spilling her warm beverage all over her lap.

"Sorry," Eric was quick to apologize realizing he had startled her. "I didn't mean to intrude. I thought Jason was back."

Sookie put her cup down on the wooden floor under the swing.

"You're waitin' for him too?" she asked, surprised at Eric's interest on her brother.

Eric leaned heavily against the wall beside the swing, both hands in the pockets of Jason's old track pants.

"I wanted to know how it went with the fat fu—I mean Big Al."

Sookie's lips tugged into a smile. She was curious too. Perhaps that was why she couldn't sleep.

"I wonder if he's going through with his plan…" Eric mused out loud.

"What plan?"

Eric grinned, baring his perfect set of teeth to her. "The night I met Jason, he told me his 'dream' was to beat the shit out of Big Al and walk out of Fantasia with his girl."

"What?" Sookie was aghast. If she had known Jason would do such a thing she would -

"Relax. I don't think he'll do it," Eric hummed, cutting off her train of thought. "Jason's smarter than that. If I'm a betting man, my guess is he's in a cheap motel somewhere celebrating with Crystal."

Sookie felt a shiver ran up her spine. She would have been fine without Eric painting him a picture.

"You did it," Eric said, turning to her. "Because of you Jason would be able to clear Crystal's debt. She'd never have to work for that fat fuck again."

Sookie shrugged. Her initial plan was to give Jason the ring. But knowing her brother, he would only refuse.

"I did it for my niece. Or nephew."

"Did you ever wonder?" Eric asked. "I don't mean to be disrespectful or anything but Crystal's line of work isn't exactly ideal. What makes you so sure it's Jason's?"

Sookie picked up her cup from the floor and wrapped her hands around it. "Ah, the perpetual pessimist strikes again." She sipped then turned to face Eric. "If Jason thinks it's his then who am I to question it? He loves Crystal and at the end of the day that's all that matters."

Eric hung his head, looking pensive.

"If you're goin' to wait here with me, you better sit your ass down. You're still recuperating." She scooched to the side to make room for Eric.

Eric sidled up next to her as she diverted her attention back to her tea.

A taut silence descended with Eric still seemingly lost in his own thoughts.

"Sylvie," Eric hushed, finding his voice again.

Sookie swallowed hard. She couldn't figure out why, but that name seemed to cause a build-up in her throat.

"What?" she croaked, feigning disinterest.

"The ring," Eric answered as he faced her. "It belonged to Sylvie. She was my fiancée."

Sookie's eyebrow shot up. "Was?"

"We were together for more than four years. On our first year anniversary, I proposed. She picked the ring herself." He sighed, peeling his eyes off of her. "She left me two weeks ago. Said she didn't want to be the other woman anymore."

Sookie straightened up. "You're married?"

"To my job," Eric said with a bitter smile.

"Really?" Sookie crooned jokingly. "Never would have pegged you for a workaholic. You strike me more like a party boy."

He chuckled. "Don't get me wrong, I also know how to play hard."

There was that smirk again. But it disappeared before Sookie could decide if she hated it.

"Before I met Sylvie I was a hot mess. I took a big hit after the recession. I lost my credibility. I lost my sense of purpose. It messed with my head. My brother, Godric, suggested I take a sabbatical so I did. But it didn't do me any good. Like you said, I look like a party boy so I lived up to my billing until I spiraled down. Godric tried to help me. He soon found out it was hard to save someone who didn't want to be saved."

"Then what happened?"

"Then my brother died."

Jason had told Sookie about Eric's brother, who - according to him – passed away recently.

"Sorry," she whispered. She was accustomed to the pain of losing someone. "How did he die?"

"He was shot."

"Oh."

"That was my rock bottom."

She could see his eyes glazing over and she did him a favor by looking away. Jason was the only man she had seen weep and it broke her heart just thinking about it.

"My brother had to die for me to realize what a scum I was. My father disowned me. He said I was a waste of space. That I don't deserve to be loved because I only know how to destroy."

He pinched the bridge of his nose, as though warding off a terrible memory. Sookie took his hand and squeezed it. For once, she didn't hesitate. She only wanted to touch him. Soothe him and hope it was enough.

Eric stared at her hand clasping his. She should have pulled away but she didn't. She felt like he needed it.

"I wanted to prove my father wrong. That's why I worked my ass off. I wanted to thrive under his scrutiny. So I worked and worked and fucking worked. I never realized that in my efforts to make something out of nothing, I ended up losing everything. Ironic, isn't it?"

Eric was smiling but the pain in his eyes was unmissable.

"Is that why you came to Louisiana? Because of Sylvie?"

"Yes and no." Eric leaned back. "I wanted to clear my head. But I also wanted to give Sylvie time to change her mind. I thought that if I give her space she'd realize she couldn't live without me and come back."

"Where is she now?"

"France."

"Wow. She hated you that much to go that far?"

Eric rolled his eyes at her. "She lives there. She's French."

She let go of his hand and giggled.

He laughed. His was a throaty kind of laughter that she found vaguely amusing as she giggled along with him.

Sookie took another sip of her lukewarm tea, focusing her gaze on the front lawn, wondering if Eric knew that behind the trees – a hop, skip and a jump away from the farmhouse – was a cemetery. What would a city boy like him do if he found out his neighbors were all six feet under?

"Keeping that ring won't bring her back to you," she said, keeping her eyes away from him.

"Who's the pessimist now?" he jested.

"Seriously Eric. What good is that ring if you have no one to give it to?"

His smile faded. "What are you proposing?"

"Cowboy up," she said without missing a beat. "Talk to her. Admit it's your fault and beg her to take you back."

He scoffed. "I don't beg."

Sookie raised her eyebrow. "You begged me to forgive you," she pointed out.

"You're the exception," he shot back.

She drew up short. What did he mean by that? Her confusion must have been written all over her face because before she could say anything else Eric was already on the defensive.

"You're the exception because you're immune to my charms," he explained hastily.

Sookie forced herself to smile. "At least you got that one right."

Eric flashed a lopsided smirk before turning away.

She regarded him closely as his expression became somber again.

 _Don't stir the pot_ , her grandmother used to tell her, _no good will come of it_.

She chewed her lip, contemplating whether to ask him the question that had been gnawing at her since last night.

 _Oh, what the hell…_

"Do you still love her?" she asked, her voice was so low she wouldn't be surprised if he hadn't heard her.

Eric let out a breath, steeled his spine and homed in on her. "We were together for more than four years, let's just say, I am quite invested in the relationship."

Sookie couldn't help but shake her head. "There's your problem then, you're looking at it like a banker. Love isn't an investment; it's a risk. You just have to take a leap of faith."

Eric merely scoffed. Maybe he wasn't such a romantic after all. She shrugged and let the hooting owls fill the silence.

"How did Jason lose his leg?" he asked out of nowhere.

So her brother decided to show his bionic leg, she mused. She wondered just how much Jason had told him.

"He was protectin' me from an animal."

"Like a hunting accident?"

She bobbed her head all the while averting his gaze. "Somethin' like that." She could feel Eric regarding her closely, reading her. "Do you go hunting, Eric?" she asked, creating a diversion.

Eric peeled his eyes off of her. "Once, in Stockholm. But I was too young to enjoy it."

She snickered. "You're never too young to enjoy a good hunt."

"I didn't say it was good." There was a hint of bitterness lacing his tone - food for thought.

"Shame," she offered. "I love a good hunt. When Daddy was still alive, he'd take us hunting during open season."

"Your father took _you_ hunting?" He sounded surprised, which amused her.

"Why is that so shocking?" she asked. "Because I'm a girl?"

Eric barely shrugged. She let it go.

With a wistful smile she continued with her recollection. "We'd leave at daybreak and spend the whole day together. Daddy always ended up with the best catch. He'd say it was because he had a good reconnaissance team. Jason and I would brag about it for weeks." She paused, her eyes pricking at the memory. "Hunters need two things: lots of ammo and a lot more patience."

Eric leaned forward, seemingly enthralled.

"Animals aren't wanderers. They roam the grounds out of necessity. And when they do they are always on high alert, which makes them attune to any kind of predators. Daddy said if you want to catch them at their most vulnerable, you gotta be patient. They're like people, one way or another they'll find their way back to the last place where they felt safe. Where they can blend in and let down their guards and do whatever it is they love to do. And then, when they're at their most vulnerable, that's when you go for the kill."

Eric's gaze was fixed on her as though he was hanging on to her every word.

"Son of a bitch," he said under his breath, his eyes widening.

"Excuse me?"

The metal braces of the swing shuddered and whimpered as Eric shot up to his feet. "That's it," he whispered mostly to himself as he started pacing back and forth. "Goddamn, why didn't I think of that sooner?"

She had a feeling that Eric wasn't really talking to her but more of thinking out loud. She could practically hear the wheels churning in his head.

His steps halted as his head snapped back to her. "You're right." He grinned as he hunkered down to level his face with hers before cupped both her cheeks. "You're a fucking genius."

She blinked, mesmerized. "What do you mean?"

"You just helped me figure out how to find De Castro."

 _De Castro? Who the hell is De Castro?_

He leaned in closer. For a second there she thought he would kiss her and for the life of her she couldn't find the strength to draw back. She held her breath, bracing herself for what was coming.

Then just as she was about to close her eyes, his lips took a detour to her ear. "You might have saved my life again," he whispered, his breath brushing against her hair.

He straightened up. "I need to make a phone call," he said as though asking for permission.

She cleared her throat, her gaze falling to the cup in her hands. "You still have Jason's cell, right?"

He nodded, shoved his hand in his pocket and dug for the mobile phone.

"I'll be quick."

She bobbed her head in assent as she raised her now empty cup to her lips.

She watched him punch in the keys. He was moving with a purpose as he swaggered down to the yard, away from her. It was like looking at a different person. He seemed revitalized, like a dominant force. And she liked seeing him that way. She had a feeling that was what he was supposed to be. Not the wounded guy they brought home a few of nights ago.

Not the person who needed her.

If things worked out for him, he'd be out of their house soon.

He'd be back to his world.

Back to his Sylvie.

With a ragged sigh, she pushed herself off the swing and went inside. She cast another glance at him before she shut the screen door behind her, leaving the front door open for him.

She should have listened to her Gran, if she was going to stir the pot of shit, she should be ready to lick the spoon.

 **A/N: I don't own Eric.**

 **Hello doves! Here you go, hope you like it. Just to update: I am still working on my WP site (eys1214 . wordpress . com). Hopefully I'll get everything organized in shiny menus before the year ends.**

 **A giant hug to my awesome beta, MsStitcher! R, you know I love you.**

 **Thank you for reading and commenting! They are love!**


	11. Chapter 11

Eric walked in small circles around the lawn as he waited for his call to get connected. It had been a while since the ground beneath him had felt this solid.

" _This is Stan Davis, leave your number after the tone."_

"Davis, it's Ike. Ike Applebaum. Account number 2203. Give me a call as soon as you get this," was all Eric said before he hung up. He didn't have to give his phone number, the caller ID on Stan's mobile would take care of that.

Looking back to the porch, he spied Sookie going inside the farmhouse.

 _Shit._

What were the chances that she was only going to refill her cup? Very slim. He was so stupid. They were having a moment. A fucking moment! And he had to ruin it with his epiphany. This call better pay off or he'd never forgive himself for having wasted a good opportunity.

He stared at the phone again willing it to ring.

Maybe he should just go inside and follow Sookie. She was probably still awake. He'd tell her about his light-bulb idea, the one she triggered when she mentioned how animals' minds worked.

He was about to make an about-face back to the house when the cell in his hand sprang to life. The call was coming from a 'Private Number.' Of course, when it came to Stan Davis, Eric expected nothing less.

He picked up after the second ring. "Stan?"

"I'll be damned. It _is_ you," said his old friend, in his gruff, Irish tone. "I thought you're dead."

Eric snorted. "Sorry to disappoint."

Stan laughed at that. "Still a bastard, I see. To what do I owe the pleasure, Eric? I heard the Feds are looking to nail your ass for fraud."

"Could you blame them? It's not their fault they couldn't find a nicer ass to nail."

Stan chuckled again. Eric couldn't help but join in. It felt like old times.

"What took you so long to call me?" Stan's voice grew serious.

"I wasn't sure you'd take it." Sadness crept into his tone, remembering the last conversation the two of them had.

"I never blamed you for his death, Eric, you know that. Godric wouldn't want me to."

A heavy silence descended between them. Stan Davis was his brother's best friend. He was a former CIA operative who left the agency to work full-time for Appius' security firm. After Godric died, Stan left his father's employ to start his own practice.

"You didn't go to the funeral," Eric stated after a while.

"I didn't want to see your father." The bitterness was thick in Stan's voice. "Why are you calling, Eric? Surely it's not because you missed me."

"I need your help tracking down De Castro."

"I thought Appius was handling that? I heard he's taken over Northman Cap."

So Stan was up to date. That would make explaining everything to him a lot easier.

"I don't trust him."

"That's not news to me," Stan quipped. "What do you want me to do?"

"The first time I met De Castro was in a summit in Las Vegas. I remember seeing him play high stakes baccarat a few times while we were there. You don't play with that much money purely for sport."

"You think he has a gambling problem?"

"I do."

"And yet you still hired him to handle your company's finances?"

"I had him vetted, Stan, I'm not an idiot. The only problem was the person I asked to check his background turned out to be his accomplice."

"Who?"

"Sandy." His damned secretary.

"You _are_ an idiot."

"Sandy had been with me for four years. How the hell am I supposed to know she was pulling a long con?"

"You should've asked me to look into _her_ background."

Eric rolled his eyes in irritation. "I'm asking you now."

"Okay, okay, no need to take that tone with me. What do you want me to do? D'you want me to canvass every casino in Vegas?"

"No, that's absurd. Besides, he wouldn't go that far. At least not yet. He knows the Feds are looking for him. He wouldn't risk getting spotted at airports. According to Miriam, he also took the company's stipend, which gives him enough money to launder or burn. Where do you think a compulsive gambler with that much disposable cash go? Somewhere accessible, where he can blend in without raising suspicion?"

It took Stan a few seconds to catch Eric's drift. "Atlantic City."

"Wow, Stan, you're a lot smarter when you don't work for Appius," Eric jested.

"Fuck you," Stan growled at him. "You might want to dial down the snark, Northman. May I remind you that I'm doing this out of the goodness of my heart."

 _Oh right, I'm a destitute._

"Then be a dear and get that motherfucker for me, will you?"

Stan chortled. "With pleasure."

"Thank you, Stan."

"And when I find De Castro, I want that 1946 Macallan Godric kept in his cellar in St. Moritz."

He was familiar with that particular brand of whiskey. It was one of the pricey liquors Godric had in his collection.

"I thought this was pro bono?" Eric teased.

"Think of it as pro bonus."

Eric snorted. "Fine. It's yours. You have to move fast though before the Feds sequester all my assets."

Eric ended the call first. He was still hoping he could continue his conversation with Sookie.

He rushed upstairs, careful not to bust a stitch as he climbed the steps two at a time, only to find Sookie's door tightly shut. He contemplated knocking but decided it would be unwise. She needed to rest. After what he put her through in the past few nights she deserved a good night's sleep.

If only he could get one himself.

* * *

 **E/S**

The sweet aroma of vanilla and chocolate in the air jarred him out of slumber. He rubbed his eyes to dispel the last dregs of sleep before he pushed himself off the bed.

It had been a restless night. Pumped up by the conversation he had with Sookie - and later on with Stan - he couldn't seem to tamp down his exhilaration.

Putting on his jeans on top of his boxers, he made a quick trip to the bathroom to do his morning ritual before he padded downstairs to follow the scent.

He could hear the Stackhouse siblings' murmurs amid the constant clanging of something metallic against the tiled countertop of the kitchen. It sounded like someone was cooking up a storm.

As he closed in on the kitchen, he could now smell cinnamon too. It was making his mouth water. He was about to barge inside when he heard Jason mention his name.

"Why don't you bring Eric instead?"

His steps halted abruptly as he pressed himself against the wall separating the living room from the dining area to eavesdrop on the siblings' discussion.

This felt oddly familiar.

"Uh-uh, not gonna happen," was Sookie's quick retort, which made Eric's smile disappear.

"Why not?" Jason asked. "Sam already knows; it's only a matter of time before the word leaks out. Don't ya think it's better to come straight from you?"

"Sam won't say anything. At least for now."

"Sorry to burst your bubble sis, but no one's above that kind of gossip. Men talk, that's a fact. We might not do it the way you ladies do but the truth of the matter is: we also swap stories."

"It doesn't matter." Sookie was being stubborn, as usual. "I'm not goin' to debut my fake relationship with Eric at Reverend Daniels and Lettie Mae's wedding."

 _Wedding?_ He wasn't fond of such gatherings but it would have been nice to be invited.

"Lying to Sam about Eric is one thing. Lying to Tara and everyone else…" Sookie paused. "I'm not that good a liar. There's no way I can explain how I magically end up shacking up with a hot blond."

 _Hmmm… did she say hot blond?_

Taking it as his cue, he puffed up his chest and waltzed in with his trademark smirk.

"I have other qualities too, you know," he hummed as he winked at Jason before he sat down to the chair closest to where Sookie was standing.

Jason made a sound between a snort and a laugh.

Eric glanced up to meet Sookie's eyes. "Morning lover," he husked.

"I told you, I don't like you callin' me that," she snapped with a dramatic roll of her eyes, although the blush creeping up her cheeks belied her.

"What's all these? Is that a red cake?" Eric asked looking at the bowls of white cream and layers of ruby pastry perched on a cake stand in the middle of the table. "Is it someone's birthday?"

"It's a wedding cake," Sookie replied as she hauled a couple of mixing bowls and transferred them to the counter to clear some space on the table.

"Wedding?" Eric turned to Jason. "Don't tell me it's yours."

Jason's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as he shook his head vigorously.

"Is it ours?" Eric diverted his gaze back to Sookie. "I know you think I'm hot but aren't we getting a little carried away?"

"Aren't you bein' extra cheeky today?" she lobbed at him, skewering him with a look.

"What can I say, I had a good night..." he let the words hung in the air as he held her gaze.

Her cheeks flushed to a darker shade of crimson as she tucked her lower lip under her teeth.

Her reaction made his stomach flip and his throat tighten.

 _Goddamn, what is happening to me?_

"I had a good night too, if anyone's interested," Jason chimed in, breaking the spell. Eric didn't know whether to thank Jason or wring his neck.

Sookie was the first to break eye contact as she darted toward the counter.

"How did it go last night?" Eric asked peeling his eyes off Sookie to look at Jason.

"Fucking epic!" Jason practically squealed, lighting up the room.

Sookie tsked loudly without looking back at them. "Isn't it too early to throw the f-word Jase?"

"Apologies milady," Jason quipped bowing his head theatrically toward his sister then looked up at Eric and said. "It was fudging epic!"

Eric tittered.

"It's like how I imagined it… man you should've seen Big Al's fudgy face when I slapped the envelope full of cash on his table." He stood up and re-enacted the scene with an imaginary envelope. "Bam! Here's your money you fat fuck, I mean, fat fudge."

Eric laughed. He gave Jason that last line. He was so proud.

Sookie crossed over to the table and laid a plate of deep-fried bread in front of Eric. The scent of cinnamon made his nostrils flare.

"French toast?" Eric asked her, arching a brow.

"What?" she hummed, batting her thick lashes coyly. "Thought you like everythin' French."

It was a bit on the nose but he wasn't complaining. He loved a good French toast.

"How did your phone call go last night?" she asked him.

"Oh, so I guess we're moving on to Eric again," Jason muttered under his breath as he poked his toast with a fork like a petulant child.

Sookie shook her head with a grin. "C'mon Jase, we all know what happened next. We don't need the play-by-play on what you and Crystal did after you walked out of Fantasia."

Eric agreed. It was bad enough that he wasn't getting any action; he didn't need Jason to rub salt on that particular wound.

"I may have gotten a lead on the whereabouts of the person who stole from my – _our_ – company. All thanks to you."

"Oh." Her eyes lit up, a ghost of smile on her lips and he wondered why she seemed so relieved to hear that.

"Speaking of thieves..." Jason butted in again.

Was there a way to spirit Jason out of this kitchen so he could have some moment alone with Sookie?

"My buddy from the Sheriff's office may have found somethin' about your muggers too. Apparently, there were a couple of hooligans shakin' up tourists in Monroe last week. One of the victims heard one of the muggers call his partner Mac. What are the odds they're the same thugs who mugged you?"

Eric straightened up. "It's probably them. Did the victim say anything else?"

"Nothing solid so far, but he did mention a black mamba tattoo on the left side of the mugger's neck."

"He had a snake tattoo?" Sookie asked.

"No. Not a snake tattoo, just the words 'Black Mamba' scrawled here," Jason said, making a slitting gesture with his thumb across the side of neck.

"There's no lack of imagination there," Eric murmured drily, making Sookie chuckle.

He grinned, feeling like a champion. If only he could make her giggle more often.

"The Sheriff wants to see you today so they can document your stab wound before it heals completely. They want to build a stronger case for those slimebags. If they continue moving south, Bon Temps will be their next stop."

Eric stole a glance at Sookie. He was hoping he could stay in and spend a little more time with her since she mentioned that she would be taking a day off today.

"You two should go," Sookie said, as though reading his thoughts.

Before Eric could nod his assent, the cell in his pocket buzzed. He dug for the phone and checked the caller ID - private number. It was definitely Stan.

"I have to take this," he said as he pushed his chair back and dashed out of the kitchen to go to the porch.

He picked a spot by the patio that had a clear view of the kitchen before he pressed the mobile phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Ike Applebaum, please," he recognized Stan Davis' voice on the other line. His friend was being cautious.

"It's me, Stan. Did you find anything?"

"Not just anything," Stan began. Eric could practically hear the smugness reverberating off Stan's voice. It was oddly comforting. "I found the SOB."

Eric felt a huge burden being lifted out of his body as he let out a long, hard sigh. "How?"

"I made a few calls in Jersey after we spoke last night. One of my ol' pals works as a casino pitbull at the Golden Nugget. I sent him a photo of our friend for circulation. A few hours later he emailed me a surveillance photo of the perp making rounds at the baccarat tables at the Harrah. He's staying at Ceasars under an alias Juan Miguel Santos. He checked in two nights ago, paid with cash, of course. The bastard's being real careful, I'd give him that. He doesn't play in Ceasars. He hasn't set foot in any of the high stakes rooms too, keeping a low profile."

"Are you sure it's him?"

"About eighty-seven percent sure, at least according to the facial recognition software they are using in Atlantic City casinos. I gotta say, technology today creeps the hell outta me," Stan explained. "I can identify him myself if you want. I'm in Brooklyn right now; I can be there in two hours or less."

Eric rubbed the five o'clock shadow along his jawline. The most logical thing to do was to turn De Castro over the Feds so he could clear Eric's name and hand over the stolen funds. However, knowing how devious De Castro could be, he could easily sell him off to save his skin and it would be his word against Eric's. With Eric's colorful history with the FBI, it wouldn't be a stretch if they take De Castro's word against him.

 _It's a fucking catch 22._

Without De Castro, he would lose his company to his father. With De Castro, he could lose his company to the government.

He started pacing, darting a glimpse at Sookie every now and then. She was slicing off the top of the cake with dental floss. He could tell she was holding her breath by the way her chest puffed up and her lips thinned. How could someone so serious could look so fucking adorable? That's probably how she drew in her prey.

'… _when they're at their most vulnerable, that's when you go for the kill.'_

Her words from last night stirred something in him again. That was when it hit him.

"I have a plan," Eric muttered under his breath.

"Is it illegal?"

"It depends on how you look at it."

Stan fell silent for a while. "Will it work?"

"Only if you do everything I tell you to," Eric assured him. "And Stan, if you pull this off, you'll be killing two birds with one stone."

"Spit it out then."

Eric laid out the groundwork for Stan, keeping his voice to a minimum.

Stan blew out a breath. "Godric was right. You have your moments. Remind me to call you when I get in trouble."

Eric squared his shoulders. Stan was never big on compliments. And the fact that he doled out one now was a huge boost on Eric's ego.

"I'll keep you posted," Stan said when Eric didn't offer a response. "What're you doing in Bon Temps anyway?"

Eric furrowed his brows. "How did you know I'm in Bon Temps?"

"C'mon Eric. It's me. I've tracked down terrorists more elusive than you," Stan quipped. "So, are you gonna tell me why of all places you've picked that podunk town as your hideout?"

Eric leaned against the window of the kitchen and stared at the woman who was too busy icing a cake to notice him watching.

"I love the view."

* * *

 **E/S**

The trip to the Sheriff's office started off tedious until Jason's friend showed up.

Eric and Jason were met by Deputy Sheriff Kevin Ellis at the station. The deputy, a young, scrawny guy in his mid-twenties, who couldn't seem to stop touching his greasy short black hair, seemed out of place. Sure, he was pleasant and accommodating but he would have been better off with a job at a convenience store than sit behind the desk in a Sheriff's office.

Deputy Ellis took one look at Eric and blanched at his size. With deputies like him, no wonder the morons who mugged him still roamed the streets.

The laughable deputy asked Eric to give a detailed account of the altercation and took a couple of photos of Eric's injury to add to his file. He didn't ask for Eric's address in New York, thanks to Jason who quickly vouched for Eric.

Eric was not without plan though. He already had Stan's Brooklyn address committed to memory in case the deputy insisted on it. The only thing he was worried about was his prints. If the deputy asked for his fingerprints that could mean trouble. They would be able to run his name in the system, making it easier for the Feds to find him.

Alas, tipping the Feds off of his location was the least of his concerns especially with Stan already working on De Castro's entrapment.

It was the Stackhouse siblings that worried him the most. He had a record. If they ran his prints through the national system they would discover his real identity. And so much more.

He didn't want Sookie and Jason to find out his last name wasn't Rothman. Not this way. Not out of necessity. He wanted to tell them in his own terms.

Because he trusted Jason.

He trusted _her_.

Eric came to a decision. He would tell the siblings tonight. He would tell them all.

He was thinking of ways on how to break the news to the siblings when another deputy walked in and came up to Jason.

"Jase," called the man with a much more impressive build than the shrimpy Deputy Ellis.

"Deputy Fortenberry," Jason stood up and gave the guy a mock salute before he pulled him in a bear hug. "I was beginnin' to wonder when you'd show up. This is the guy I was tellin' you about." He swiveled toward Eric, who also peeled himself off his monobloc chair. "Eric, this is my ol' pal, Hoyt. He lives next door to us."

Hoyt stuck out his hand and Eric shook it.

The deputy faced Jason again. "Can I talk to you in my office, bubba?" he asked. His tone was ominous.

"Sure. About what?"

"It's about our friend in The Farm," Hoyt hushed.

Jason's face darkened, his lips thinning into a taut line as he followed Hoyt into the room near the coffee vending machine.

Eric was curious. He wasn't the only one though as Deputy Ellis excused himself to get himself a cuppa joe, which was obviously a ruse to eavesdrop.

Eric would've done the same if he could. He had never seen jolly Jason so grim. It was gravely unsettling. Like seeing Santa frown.

He was beginning to get restless when the door to Deputy Fortenberry's room swung wide open, revealing a disgruntled Jason. His face was paper white as he staggered toward him.

"Let's go Eric," Jason murmured to him before he made a beeline to the exit.

"Are you okay?"

Jason merely bobbed his head as he dug for his keys inside his pocket. "Do you mind driving home?" he asked Eric.

Now Eric was morbidly curious. Jason was protective of his Betsy and the fact that he was asking him to drive his truck meant he was more shaken up than Eric initially thought.

Eric took the keys from Jason and climbed onto the driver's seat. He was already buckled up by the time Jason settled in the passenger side. Before he could pull away from the parking space though, Deputy Fortenberry came rushing out and stopped him. The deputy ducked his head inside and gave Jason a card.

"You forgot this, bud," Deputy Fortenberry said, handing Jason a business card. Eric sneaked a glance at the small piece of cardboard and caught a glimpse of the Scales of Justice.

 _A lawyer's calling card?_

Eric stayed mum as Hoyt leaned in and patted Jason's arm.

"I know it isn't fair, bubba. And if there's anythin' I can do to help, you know where to find me," Deputy Fortenberry hushed.

Jason only bobbed his head, still seemingly confounded.

"Mr. Rothman," the deputy raised his gaze to Eric. "Sorry about the mugging. We Southerners take pride in our hospitality. Rest assured, we'll be on top of this."

Eric said, "Thank you," as he fired up Betsy anew.

Deputy Fortenberry stepped back just in time for Jason to look up and turn to him.

"Hoyt," Jason called out. "Sook is takin' the MCAT next month. If things go without a hitch, she'll be movin' to New Orleans before this fall. Is it okay if we keep this between us for now? I don't wanna rattle her is all."

Eric could almost hear the reluctance in the deputy's voice as he said, "Sure, Jase, whatever you want, bud."

Hoyt and Jason nodded their goodbyes while Eric waved at the deputy.

Eric steered the wheel without casting a single glance at his passenger. The direction back to the farmhouse required very little instruction.

If Eric knew how to whistle he would just to compensate for the lack of noise.

The silence on their way back to the house was a stark contrast to their drive to the station. During the entire trip en route to the Sheriff's office, Jason had been talking non-stop about Crystal and the events of the previous night.

He missed chatty Jason who loved to make small talk.

It took every ounce of restraint in him not to pry about Jason's puzzling conversation with Deputy Fortenberry.

Why didn't he want Sookie to know about it? Why did he need to consult with a lawyer? Were they in trouble? Was Sookie in any kind of danger?

Goddammit, he wanted to know!

But if there was anything he learned in the short time he spent with the Stackhouses, it was to respect certain boundaries. To give them the benefit of the doubt.

So Eric kept his queries to himself as they lapsed into silence for the rest of the trip.

He hadn't even realized they were almost home until he made the turn to the familiar beaten track leading to the farmhouse.

Eric cranked up the hand brake and hopped out of the truck just in time to see Sookie marching down the porch steps, cradling a big cake box.

He rushed to help her. But she declined to hand over the box and instead tipped her chin toward the passenger door. He yanked it open and sidestepped to give her a wide berth.

She carefully placed the box in the passenger seat with the care of a mother to a newborn. She then strapped a luggage belt around it to keep it from moving. She straightened up, brushed the length of her skirt and beamed at him.

He almost sighed at the sight of her. It was the first time he saw her all dolled up in a short white dress with big red roses printed on it. She matched her outfit with a badass pair of brown knee-high cowboy boots.

Her hair that was always up in a tight bun was flowing down, golden locks splayed over her shoulder. Her lips were as red as the flowers on her dress and her eyes… God help him, he could get lost in those eyes.

"So?" she hummed, jarring him out of his trance. "How did it go?"

He blinked away the fog of his schoolboy fantasies.

"It went well," he managed to say.

Jason caught up to them and stood side by side with him.

Sookie turned to her brother and swung her hips, making her skirt sway. The movement instantly made Eric fluster.

"What do you think?" she asked, as though waiting for her brother's seal of approval.

Jason finally cracked a smile, easing the tension on his face.

"Meh," Jason shrugged, obviously trying to downplay exactly how gorgeous his sister looked. "Not bad, I guess."

 _Not bad? She's a fucking knockout._

"Why thank you. Thank you very much," she crooned, batting her eyelashes exaggeratedly. She probably knew her brother all too well to know what he meant.

"Um… are you sure you don't want some company?" The words went tumbling out of Eric's mouth before he could stop them. God, he hated himself so much right now.

Sookie had the good grace to blush before she shook her head no. "Thanks, I'm good. I want you boys to behave though. There's fried chicken and mashed potatoes in the oven. And don't forget your meds, 'kay?" She wagged her finger playfully at him while flashing him a smile. He swore his knees buckled just a little.

He held her door open for her and she slid in smoothly in her seat, mouthing another 'Thanks.'

His grip remained on the steel frame of her door, pulling it wider as he lowered his head to look at her. He wasn't ready to let her go just yet.

Sookie knotted her brows as though she was waiting for him to shut her door.

"Is there anythin' else you need?" she asked, her lips tugging into smile.

"Last chance," he crooned. "Are you sure you don't need an escort? I'm a hell of dancer." He wasn't. But damn, he'd line dance all night if that would get her to bring him.

If Sylvie could hear him right now she'd curse his soul to hell. How many times had Sylvie thrown a fit because he refused to take her dancing? And now here he was practically begging this woman to take him to a stupid wedding.

Sookie giggled. Ah, the tinkling sound of success.

"Unlike you, I like to keep my hidden talents, well, hidden," she quipped as she pushed him back playfully so she could pull her door shut.

Eric caught her hand and she stilled. Their gazes locked, her face frozen in a timid smile.

Her hand was cold and clammy. Or maybe it was his palm that was sweating. Damn if cared. She didn't yank her hand out of his grasp which made him a little hopeful.

Hopeful for what, he didn't know for sure.

Time seemed to freeze and that was exactly how he liked it.

"She blinked!" Jason blurted out of nowhere, pointing a finger at Sookie.

Eric and Sookie whipped their heads toward the third wheel in this scenario.

"What?" Sookie asked her brother.

"Oh I thought you two were havin' a staring contest, in which case you blinked first. So Eric you're the winner, you can let go of my sister now."

Sookie jerked, pulling her hand out of his grasp, while Eric straightened up and took a couple of steps back, fighting the impulse to curse out loud.

Oh, how he missed quiet Jason.

He grudgingly swung Sookie's door shut as she made a big show of strapping on her seat belt. She flicked the key in the ignition and the engine sputtered to life. That didn't sound good but he knew damn well not to speak ill of Doris the explorer.

Yes, both siblings had funky names for their vehicles.

She nodded at her brother then turned to him, flipping her hair over her shoulder to reveal the length of her neck. He inhaled sharply at the vision.

Collecting himself, he raised a stiff hand to her and muttered, "Later."

She nodded and smiled as she parroted, "Later."

The car backed out of the driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires of the yellow car, which had seen better days.

He watched her vehicle disappear. He wanted to go to that wedding. He wanted to see her dance and giggle and sway those damned hips. He wanted to have a piece of the cake she had been working on for hours. It looked positively delectable. And even if it wasn't, he'd still say it was scrumptious just to see her blush.

Most of all, he wanted to tell her she was beautiful. God, she was beautiful.

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric.**

 **Sorry for the delay m'loves. I was going to post this last Saturday but real life got in the way. I hope you like it though.**

 **Have you seen The Legend of Tarzan trailer? (Who am I kidding? Of course you have.) Oh man, I could not get enough of it. The people who made the teaser sure knew what they were doing. They only inserted a few glimpses of ASkars to hook us in and leave us begging for more. Man, those abs. I could sit down and stare at those gorgeous buns for days. Okay, I'm gonna go and wipe the drool off my face now.**

 **Thank you for reading and writing thoughtful reviews loves! They inspire the muse.**

 **Of course, this chapter wouldn't be possible without the help of the awesome MsStitcher. She's the freakin' best! Take it easy, sweetie.**

 **All mistakes are mine.**


	12. Chapter 12

**_Previously…_**

 _The car backed out of the driveway, gravel crunching beneath the tires of the yellow car named Doris, which had seen better days._

 _He watched her vehicle disappear. He wanted to go to that wedding. He wanted to see her dance and giggle and sway those damned hips. He wanted to have a piece of the cake she had been working on for hours. It looked positively delectable. And even if it wasn't, he'd still say it was scrumptious just to see her blush._

 _Most of all, he wanted to tell her she was beautiful. God, she was beautiful._

* * *

"She's startin' to look at you funny," Jason murmured behind him as they marched into the farmhouse.

Eric slowly turned to Jason. "What do you mean?"

"Sookie. She's lookin' at you funny. I'm not sayin' that's how she looks at Alcide, but that's how it started."

"Alcide?" _What the hell is Jason mumbling about?_

Jason grinned and shook his head. "Maybe it's the shirt. It looks good on you."

Eric looked at the blue plaid shirt he was wearing on top of the black wife beater. "Um… thanks? Found this in the pile of newly-washed clothes yesterday. Is this yours?"

Jason shook his head. "Not mine, bud. I'll be needin' some jimmy juice to fit into that."

The shirt _was_ too big to be Jason's.

"Whose is it?"

"Alcide's," Jason replied without missing a beat.

Eric suddenly felt the urge to tear up the shirt.

"What do you mean? The Doc gave it to me?" _Like I'm a fucking charity case?_

"Oh no. No, man. I meant Sookie bought that years ago for Alcide but she never got to give it to him."

Eric didn't know which was worse: to be a charity case or a second choice.

"She said they never dated," Eric snapped, hoping Jason wasn't sharp enough to detect the resentment in his tone.

"They didn't. Alcide, bless his heart, is a good man but he can be so damned thick when it came to my sister."

Eric's steps halted as they reached the porch. He was suddenly light-headed. Like the air was too thick and it was making his head shrink.

"I guess it started when Alcide brought me home from school," Jason continued, blissfully unaware of his company's growing anxiety. "I told you about the mean kids, right? Well, one time, an asshole thought it would be cool to make fun of the cripple. He tied my shoelaces together while I was eatin' my lunch. I took a nasty dive right in the middle of the cafeteria. I looked up and saw the asshole cackling with his other asshole friends. I lost my shit. Big time. I untied my laces and lunged at them. I may be a cripple but I'm goddamn scrappy. I managed to land a few blows but there were too many of them. Alcide and Hoyt came to my rescue. Alcide was a new transfer from Mississippi then."

Jason sat in the porch swing.

"They brought me home. Sookie was fuming when she saw how messed up I was. Hoyt was scared shitless of my sister. She was mad at him for not stepping in sooner. The only person who was able to calm her down was Alcide. After that, Alcide became a regular in our house. He used to hang out here after school. And the bromance was born."

Eric was lost for words. So much information in so little time.

"At first I thought it was funny, how Sookie would dress up every time I told her Alcide was coming. She'd wear her favorite Sunday dress and tie a ribbon around her hair. Gran noticed it too. She would cook up a storm just so Alcide would stay in the house longer. I used to tease Sookie about it, calling her 'Mrs. Sookie Herveaux'. I think she liked the sound of it. But as the years went by, I began to feel sad for her. I told her Alcide only saw her as a little sister. But Sook soldiered on. She was stubborn as a mule, Gran would say. When she finished high school, Alcide was already halfway through med school. She was also planning on becoming a doctor but we're a bit low on cash so she applied for Merlottes instead while she saved up for med school. Whether she wanted to be a doctor because of Alcide, I didn't ask. I was afraid she'd say yes."

Eric kept his gaze away from Jason as he pinched the bridge of his nose. He wished Jason would just shut the fuck up. He didn't ask for any history lesson.

"That shirt," Jason picked up where he left off after taking a short pause. "Sookie bought that for him from her first paycheck in Merlottes. It was supposed to be a Christmas gift. I even helped her choose the pattern."

"Why didn't she give it to him?" Eric couldn't help but ask.

"Debbie happened," Jason replied. "Gran invited Alcide over for Thanksgiving. Guess who he brought to dinner?"

Eric closed his eyes and tried his best to picture the blonde doctor. He couldn't even recall what she looked like. She was too mediocre for his taste. How could Alcide choose her over Sookie? Sometimes, men could be so fucking dumb.

"Sookie didn't say a thing after Alcide and Debbie left. She just grabbed a whole pumpkin pie from the fridge and ate it at the porch while she cried quietly."

Eric swallowed hard. He didn't know who he despised more. Jason, for needlessly telling him this particular story? Alcide, for being a dumb fuck? Debbie, because she was the obvious villain? Or Sookie, for stupidly falling for the wrong guy?

* * *

 **E/S**

Dinner was lovely. It would have been better if Sookie were there.

Both men ate in silence. Eric was busy constantly checking the time in his cellphone, while Jason was sniggering like a teenager while exchanging texts with Crystal. Every now and then Jason would give him updates on Crystal.

 _Crystal is craving for beer._

 _Crystal wants to name their baby Jimmy or Trixie._

Jason vetoed both names, thank God.

 _Crystal's spending the night in Ginger's apartment. Oh yeah, Ginger cleaned out Crystal's locker in Fantasia._

 _Have I told you Tray hired Crystal as bookkeeper in the shop? Cool, huh?_

Eric bobbed his head without looking at Jason while he muttered an obligatory, "I see."

He hoped there wouldn't be a quiz later tonight on Crystal's food cravings. He had lost track after deep-fried okra dipped in ketchup and Jalapeño Cheetos.

He wanted to change the topic but he was afraid Jason would go back to brooding or worse, pick up where they left off in the unabridged history of Sookie and Alcide. As much as he wanted to learn more about Sookie, he didn't want to immerse himself in her unhealthy obsession with a certain trauma surgeon, who looked more like a gym instructor.

It was half past eight. Sookie left before five o'clock. Shouldn't she be home by now? What kind of wedding took more than three hours?

After dinner, Jason washed the dishes and Eric wiped the table. No one in New York must find out he was doing menial chores. He still had a reputation to protect. What was left of it anyway.

Once Jason was done, they both retreated to the living room. There was nothing good on television – and the Stackhouses didn't have basic cable. After half an hour of desperately searching for something tolerable to watch, Jason finally gave up and surrendered the remote to Eric.

Eric was in no mood to kill his brain cells so he turned off the TV and began perusing Sookie's mini library. Should he give _Ulysses_ another go? Nah, he wasn't that desperate.

He picked up Mario Puzo's _The Sicilian_ instead.

"You're a fan of the written word too?" Jason said, walking up to him. "Those are Momma's books. Gran kept them for Sookie. She's a bookworm, y'know. She must have read all of them before she even finished high school. She wanted to be a teacher like Momma, until she changed her mind."

"Because of Alcide?"

Jason only shrugged.

"How did your parents die?"

"Car accident. They were driving home from Monroe. There was a big storm that night. Guess that explained why Daddy didn't see the logging truck ahead," Jason recited by rote, as though it was a story he had told a million times.

"Sorry to hear that," Eric said sincerely. "Sookie told me about your hunting trips with your dad."

"She did?" Jason looked positively surprised. "You must be growing on her, man."

It took everything in Eric not to pump his fist in the air and do a 'victory dance'.

"Oh yeah?" Eric asked, forcing his voice to sound as nonchalant as possible.

"Yeah. Sookie rarely talks about our folks. She said their memories are too precious to share."

Eric contemplated doing some sharing himself, starting with his real last name. It didn't feel right though. Not without Sookie. He wanted her to be the first to know who he really was.

Would she be furious?

Would she feel betrayed?

"How 'bout you?" Jason cut off Eric's train of thought. "Where're your folks?"

Eric placed the book back in the rack as he pretended to scan the rest of the collection.

"My mom's dead. She died during childbirth. My father said my blood was too toxic it killed my own mother," Eric hushed.

That seemed to shut Jason up.

Luckily for both of them, Eric's phone vibrated, saving both men from the conversation that had gone awry.

Eric glanced at the screen and read 'Private Number.' Jason waved him off before he could excuse himself. By the time Eric reached the front door, Jason was already climbing the stairs to go to his room.

He shut the door behind him before he pressed the phone to his ear. "Applebaum," he said to expedite the identification process for Stan.

He was expecting Stan's low baritone but instead was greeted by a loud shrill guffaw from the other line.

"Oh my God. I know you think highly of your ass but to say it out loud is a tad narcissistic even for you, don't you think?" a female voice exclaimed in between fits of laughter.

Eric couldn't help but smile at the sound of the voice he knew too well. "I see prison life hasn't changed you a bit, Pamela."

"For your information, I was kept in a Club Fed, not jail."

"Shame. You would have thrived in prison."

"You know me well."

Eric chuckled at that. Pam joined in.

"How are things back there?" Eric asked as their laughter tapered off.

Pam groaned. "Awful. I see the Colonel every fucking day. I heard he's already planning to redecorate your office."

Eric bit hard. It didn't matter how hard he had to clamor his way up, his father would always find a way to take it away from him. He wouldn't be surprised if Appius was the one behind all these. He was the puppet master after all.

"But you're still in the loop, yes?" he asked, hopeful.

"In theory," Pam said, sounding a little deflated. "I still have a seat on the table. We actually had a meeting with the shareholders earlier. I suggested we postpone the launch until after we find Felipe and Sandy. Edgington and rest of the major stockholders agreed."

"What did the Colonel think about it?"

"No fucking clue. He doesn't say much in meetings. He just sits behind the desk, watching us with his beady eyes."

Eric could hear the frustration in Pam's voice. He pitied his friend. Silence had always been his father's best weapon.

"Yesterday, though, after the meeting, he told me he wanted to appoint a new CFO," Pam shared. "I told him it wasn't his choice to make. That we should wait for you since, all shit aside, he's not the Northman I agreed to work with."

Eric's eyebrows leapt, shocked by Pam's moxie. "You told him that?"

"Hell yeah," Pam spat. "In a very wordy e-mail," she added meekly.

Eric snorted.

"Sorry. The Colonel is a very scary man. I have a newfound respect for you for standing up to him all these years."

He wasn't as fearless as Pam thought. He knew how terrifying the Appius could be. He had grown up fearing his own shadow. He was probably the only kid who wasn't scared of the bogeyman. Because he knew the bogeyman would be scared of Appius.

But when Godric died, Eric realized he wasn't really afraid of the Colonel, what frightened him the most was losing his family. That sense of belonging. Appius despised him from the second he was born.

Appius wasn't family. Godric was.

"How're you, Eric?" Pam jarred him out of his thoughts.

"Oh you know… the usual," he hummed, getting his bearings back. "Dirt poor, hiding from the Feds yada-yada-yada."

Pam fell silent. Eric did too. Sometimes truth had a way of snuffing the fun out of everything.

"Sorry about Felipe, Eric," Pam finally spoke. "I should've known he was cooking the books."

"Don't beat yourself up about it. I didn't see it either. We were both so busy getting the company up and running that we missed the termites eating us up from the inside."

"Wow." Pam expelled a breath, making a whooshing sound. "I thought you'd be more…"

"Upset?"

"Livid is the word that comes to mind but yeah let's go with upset." Pam let out another sigh. "It's all my fault. If you were here… if I hadn't sent you in Louisiana, things wouldn't have escalated quickly."

"No, Pam. Things would have been so much worse if I had been there. Northman Cap would be crushed; the Colonel would never step in because I'd be too proud to ask for his help like Miriam did for you. The Feds would be harder on me. They'd throw my ass in jail and I'd be a drug lord's shower bitch right now."

Pam made a noise between a snort and a laugh. "With your cheekbones, you'd be the toast of the whole cell block."

Eric couldn't help but wince at the idea.

"I miss you, Eric," Pam hushed.

He smiled, knowing how hard it must be for Pam to admit it.

"I miss you too Pamela."

"To tell you the truth, I was putting off calling you. I was afraid you'd go nuclear on me."

A couple of days ago he would have gone berserk on Pam. Now, he was just glad to hear her voice.

"So that whole your-lines-are-being-tapped story is just an excuse?"

"No that's true!" Pam was quick to defend. "Miriam's so paranoid she even bought a bug detector to sweep our apartment. So far, we're clean but that doesn't mean the FBI hasn't tapped our phone lines yet. You wouldn't believe how relieved I was to find a burner phone from Stan Davis buried under my pad thai. Did you ask Stan to do that?"

He did. Pam must have known it too. There was no need to say it out loud.

"Thank you. I would've bought one myself but I was worried we were being watched. Stan called me as soon as I got home," Pam explained. "He told me about your plan."

"And? What do you think?"

He could almost hear the smile in Pam's voice when she gushed, "It's fucking brilliant."

The plan was simple really, and with Stan's skill set it would be a cake walk. The former CIA operative would hack into Felipe's air-gapped laptop using radio frequency signals from Stan's room which was purposefully and deliberately located next to Felipe's suite. Knowing Felipe's cautious approach, he would have to move the money remotely to avoid being traced. As soon as Felipe accessed the account it would ping like a sonar blip and Stan would be able to download the data through their synchronized servers. Once Stan had successfully siphoned the data from Felipe's device, Pam would tip the Feds on Felipe's whereabouts along with the proof of the stolen money to ensure that there would be enough evidence against De Castro when they brought him in.

"How did you know that Felipe would use an air-gapped device?" Pam asked, pertaining to an electronic device, in this case – a laptop, which hadn't been connected to any servers.

"Elementary my dear, Pamela," Eric hummed, sounding every bit as smug as the famous detective who coined the phrase. "It's the same system he used in the company. His computer was always isolated from our network because he deals with sensitive files. It was how he managed to funnel money out from under our noses all these years. It worked wonders for him in the past, why change it now?"

"That son of a bitch."

"Save those lovely words for him later."

"Oh I have more than words in store for him. I was actually thinking of asking Stan to give me ten minutes alone with him before I call the Feds."

Eric chortled. "Give him my love too."

"Wait - you're not coming back?"

"I can't. Remember it's your idea for me to stay under the radar until Felipe's behind bars?"

"But that's before Stan came into the picture. He said he has enough resources to grant you a safe trip back to New York."

"That won't be necessary. I'd like to stay here and wait to see how things play out before I come back."

Pam turned quiet for a moment.

"Is there something you want to tell me Eric?"

Shit. He should have known Pam would be suspicious.

"Didn't Miriam tell you I was injured?" Time to play the wounded-lamb-card.

"All the more reason you should come back."

"I'm still recuperating. I can barely walk." He could feel his nose getting longer.

"Seriously?" Pam no longer sounded skeptic, she was more concerned. "Screw the Feds. I'm getting on the next flight to Louisiana first thing tomorrow."

"No!" he exclaimed.

 _Fuck._ He couldn't let Pam come here. It would ruin everything.

"I'm fine. Really. You should stay there, Stan needs you. I need you to keep an eye on the Colonel. Please, Pam."

"Please?"

Damn. He overdid it. He never should have said please. He never begged. The sheer desperation in his voice was a dead giveaway that he was hiding something. He could only pray that Pam would let it slide.

"What's her name Eric?"

 _Crap._

"Who?"

"Don't play dumb with me."

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

Pam got quiet again. Not a good sign.

"Come to think of it… we've been chatting for a while now and you never even mentioned Sylvie. I wonder why."

Eric drew up short. It hadn't even occurred to him to inquire about his former flame.

"I have a lot on my plate. Besides, what's there to ask? She's in France, blissfully oblivious of my predicament."

"What if I tell you that -"

 _Toot. Toot._

The call was interrupted by a series of beeping sounds.

"What's that?" Pam asked, sounding annoyed.

Eric peered at the display screen and saw Sookie's name flashing. His heart immediately went up to his throat.

"I have another call coming, Pam."

"So? Let it go to voicemail."

"This is important."

"More important than Sylvie?"

He almost blurted out yes but thankfully stopped himself just in time.

"I'll talk to you later." He ended Pam's call before his friend could say another word.

Whatever Pam had to say about Sylvie could wait. Sookie couldn't.

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric and the disappointing world of TB.**

 **(Swatting cobwebs and blowing off dust) Is anyone still here?**

 **Sorry I was gone for so long. Between the Christmas holiday and all the prep for the upcoming Lunar New Year I am up to my eyeballs in RL stuff. Now that I finally got enough time to sit down and look at what my kickass beta MsStitcher has sent me (thank you, goddess!), I am able to post another chapter.**

 **Hope y'all had a lovely holiday!**

 **Here's hoping you guys are still interested. Thank you!**

 **xx**


	13. Chapter 13

"Can you believe this?" Tara asked beside her, nudging her chin toward the couple, who was making their final toast in the middle of the makeshift dance floor.

The small reception was held in the garden behind the chapel where the ceremony had taken place.

Sookie, who was sipping her virgin punch, directed her gaze to the newlyweds. "Believe what?"

"My 58-year-old former raging alcoholic mother has found a decent guy to marry her before I do," Tara replied with a sigh. "Don't get me wrong, I'm glad Momma found Greg, I just can't help feelin' like shit, I guess."

Sookie hooked her arm around her friend's and pressed her head against hers.

"You need a drink," Sookie whispered.

"No shit."

They weren't going to get any libation in the party though. This was a dry wedding after all, given Lettie Mae's long storied affair with booze.

"Wanna go to Merlottes after they leave? I'm buyin'," Tara offered.

Sookie lifted her head and bit her lip. "Um…" she hummed as she glanced at her watch. It wasn't even nine o'clock yet but her feet were already itching to drag her home.

"What?" Tara asked with a raised brow. "Am I keepin' you from somethin'?"

"No!" she squeaked a bit too loudly, making a few heads swivel in their direction.

Tara grabbed her arm and yanked her away from the guest tables. She barely managed to give her mother and her new stepfather a wave goodbye as the couple exited the garden before she dragged Sookie to the spot behind the chapel, far from the guests who were also making their exodus following the couple du jour.

"Bitch y'know you can only squeal like that when you see Idris Elba comin'," Tara chastised with an arched brow. "What's up with you anyway? You're actin' crazier than usual."

Sookie had the good grace to blush as she bit her lip.

Tara kept eyeing her, crossing her arms against her chest.

Sookie didn't budge though as she jutted her chin, a touch defiant.

"Okay, I'll start," Tara sighed, her shoulder sagging before leaning against the chapel wall. "I'm sleepin' with Sam."

"Oh."

"That's it? Oh?" Tara blurted. "I just told you I'm humpin' our boss and all you can say is 'Oh'?"

Damn it. She should have feigned a heart attack.

Her eyes darted left and right as she scrambled for words. In the end all she could come up with was, "Is he good?"

Tara pinned her with a look. "You knew, didn't you?"

Sookie could only smile meekly.

"Dammit!" Tara exclaimed, swinging her arms in the air. "Goddammit!"

Sookie looked around, hoping no one else had heard Tara's outburst because by the looks of it, Tara would be vomiting more expletives soon.

"How? Was it Sam? Did he tell you? I swear I'm gonna murder that mutt."

"Put down the pitchfork, Tar. I swear Sam didn't tell me," Sookie refuted at once, snuffing out Tara's homicidal tendencies.

"How did you find out then? We were so careful."

Sookie shifted her weight from one foot to another, deliberating how to break the news to Tara.

In the end, she decided to settle for the truth. "I heard you doin' the nasty the other night when I dropped the keys in Sam's trailer."

Tara looked like she had been doused with ice cold water as she stared at Sookie.

"Well, shit," Tara whispered, summing up what they were doing that particular balmy night. "And you didn't say anythin'?"

Sookie shrugged. "I was respectin' your privacy. I reckon if you wanted me to know, you'd tell me yourself."

"Aw hell," Tara spat, rolling her eyes. "Why, bitch, why d'you have to be so annoyingly goody-goody all the fuckin' time? Now how am I s'pposed to grill you about your 'mystery lover'?"

Sookie gritted her teeth. Jason was right; men were worse gossipmongers than women. "I changed my mind, let's murder that mutt."

Tara laughed. "Don't kill him yet. I'm still havin' fun with him. He's not as fantastic as advertised but he's a generous lover and always open to suggestions." Tara wiggled her brows while flashing a toothy grin. "Oh bitch, the things that man can do with his fingers -"

Sookie held up her hand. "Tara I'm beggin' you never to finish that sentence."

Tara cackled louder. "I'll drop the mike if you promise to take it."

Sookie shook her head vigorously. "Nope, not gonna happen."

"Aw, c'mon Sook."

"A lady doesn't kiss and tell."

"Lord, please tell me you've done more than kissin'."

Sookie refused to take the bait.

"Please… Sook, the fuckin' cat's already out of the bag, let's skin it!"

Sookie took a deep breath, bracing herself for the inquisition, before she nodded her assent.

Tara rubbed her hands together excitedly. "That's what I'm talkin' about. Okay, so where did you meet him? And don't say Tinder, I don't buy that bullshit one bit. You have no social media skills. You haven't even updated your Facebook profile since oh-five."

Damn, this was going to be worse than a lobotomy.

With a resigned sigh Sookie replied, "I met him in Fantasia."

Tara gasped theatrically. "Sookie Stackhouse, you little whore. Gran'll roll over her grave and tan your hide if she finds out you're pickin' up your happy meals from Fantasia."

Sookie chuckled as she slapped Tara's shoulder with the back of her hand. "Shut up. Eric's not a happy meal."

"So _it_ has a name."

Sookie wrung her hands together, deliberating whether to tell Tara the real deal. The feisty African-American woman had been her best friend for more than a decade. And while there were still some things – terrible things - from her past that she couldn't – wouldn't - share, she still tried to be as honest as she possibly could when it came to Tara.

"Eric isn't really my boyfriend."

"I know. He's your _lover_ ," Tara said with a wink.

"No, Tar. He's not." Sookie took another steadying breath before she gave Tara the blow-by-blow of the past few nights.

Watching Tara's reactions was like watching a silent movie. It was downright comical how quickly her expressions shifted from one mood to another. She went from stunned to curious to amused in a matter of minutes. When Sookie finished her lengthy explanation, Tara had a wicked grin on her face.

"Lemme get this straight… you're tellin' me that you picked up a guy from the side of the street, let him stay in your house and went on to tell people you were shackin' up?"

"It's not like we're broadcastin' it. We only told Alcide and Sam. Oh and Debbie too."

"Let's just stick to actual people first. Psycho bitches don't count."

Sookie sniggered, realizing belatedly they were standing on a holy ground. She wouldn't be surprised if they both burst into flames anytime now.

"What does he look like?" Tara asked.

Sookie could feel herself getting flustered just thinking of her house guest. "Let me put it this way, when I saw him with his shirt off, I forgot Alcide was even in the same room."

"Shut the fuck up! No way!" Tara spat, shoving her a little. "He's _that_ pretty?"

Sookie bobbed her head. "It hurts to even look at him. His abs looked like they were painted on."

"Hell no," Tara exhaled.

"Heavens yes," Sookie said while bobbing her head.

"Then what's stoppin' you?"

"From what?"

"From jumpin' his bones."

"He has a fiancée," Sookie replied, keeping her tone as neutral as possible. "Well, _had_ a fiancée. She left him."

"Ooh and the plot thickens," Tara said conspiratorially. "Did he say why?"

"He has serious commitment issues. I guess that's what you call a red flag."

"Ugh. What a fuckin' cliché. For once, I wanna meet a guy who's not afraid to be put on a leash."

"Maybe we should stop callin' it a leash. No one wants to be treated like a pet."

Tara waved her hand dismissively.

"Whatever. Let's go back to your boy toy. So let's say he has a baggage, that's still not a deal breaker. I'm not asking you to marry him anyway. All I'm sayin' is while he's in your turf… why not have a little fun? Life's too short to be a prude. No one will call the Vatican if you die a virgin."

Sookie couldn't help but chortle. Tara tittered along with her then suddenly she stopped, her gaze zoomed in over Sookie's shoulder.

"Your boyfriend's here," Tara said, nudging her chin.

Sookie whipped abruptly toward the new arrival's direction. For a fleeting second she thought she would see Eric.

Of course it wasn't Eric. He wasn't really her boyfriend.

He wasn't hers.

Sookie recognized the six-foot-tall man with scruffy jet black hair.

Alcide strutted toward them in a denim buttoned-down shirt and dark jeans, waving his huge hand at them. He had trimmed his beard, which really suited him.

"Evenin' ladies," Alcide said, tipping his head at Tara then at Sookie.

"Hey doc! What's up?" Tara greeted the newcomer. "If you're here for the cake, I'm afraid you're too late."

Alcide smiled. "I know. Sorry. I tried to get here as fast as I could, but we were short-staffed in the E.R. It seems I missed the whole thing entirely. I'm just glad you ladies are still here.

His gaze fell on Sookie.

"We're actually about to leave," Sookie blurted. She had no idea why, but Alcide's unexpected arrival was causing her discomfort.

"Oh." Alcide raked his hair with his fingers. "I was hoping I could talk to you."

Sookie turned to Tara, sending her friend a telepathic S.O.S.

Tara only shrugged. "I guess that's the doc's polite way of tellin' me to fuck off."

 _Traitor_.

Alcide shook his head, looking positively mortified. "That's not what I mean…"

Tara held up her hand to silence him. "I'm just kiddin' doc. I need to go and check with the caterers anyway." She turned to Sookie. "See you tomorrow? And remember… live a little."

Sookie rolled her eyes at her friend as Tara exited stage right swaying her hips a little too exaggeratedly.

"Tara hasn't changed a bit," Alcide commented. Whether it was meant as an insult or a compliment, Sookie couldn't tell, she was busy trying to look well, busy.

She was aware of how awkward she was acting. She was jumpy, twitchy, which was odd considering one of the things she liked most about Alcide was how at ease she was with him. Even when she was imagining him naked - cupping his firm butt cheeks with her clammy, eager hands - she could always, _always,_ look him straight in the eyes.

Now she couldn't. It was as if she had done him wrong and she was afraid he would call her on it.

"I heard your cake was a hit," Alcide murmured beside her to fill the silence.

Sookie occupied herself with a digging expedition in her purse, making a big show of looking for her car keys, pausing to inspect that last stick of gum she had been keeping for a certain emergency. She threw it back in. This situation didn't call for fresher breath.

"Sookie?" Alcide tugged her arm gently.

"Huh?"

"You seem distracted."

"Oh. Sorry. I didn't hear you; I was lookin' for my keys."

"You're still leaving?"

Sookie flashed him a taut smile. "I am. Unlike you, I was here on time."

Alcide grinned. "Were you waiting for me?"

"Huh? No!" she screeched. Alcide's face fell so she decided to back track a little. "I mean, I didn't even know you were comin."

"Reverend Daniels invited me," Alcide hushed, still looking disappointed. He looked around. "Where's Eric?"

"He's at home. Resting."

"Ah." Alcide bobbed his head.

"What do you want to talk to me about?" Sookie asked as she started marching to the gate, where her car was parked.

Alcide fell in step with her. "I just wanna follow up on Eric's, um, progress, is all."

"He's okay. A whole better than the last time you saw him."

"Oh good. That's good news. And his stitches? Is he changing his dressing regularly?"

"Yup. He's gettin' the hang of it."

Sookie reached the side of her car. "Is that all?"

Alcide drew up short, looking dejected.

"Sorry Alcide," she apologized once again, realizing she had been trying to disguise her awkwardness with callousness. "I just…"

"I understand," Alcide cut her short. "You wanna go home. Don't let me keep you then." He stepped to the side, giving Sookie wide berth to open her car door.

Sookie chewed her lip as she unlocked her door. She couldn't understand herself. Why couldn't she stay a little longer with Alcide?

She could feel Alcide's eyes boring holes into her as she slid in the driver's seat and pulled the door shut. She waved at Alcide while adjusting the rear-view mirror. Alcide raised his hand and smiled.

Seatbelt, check. Mirrors, check. She inserted the key in the ignition and turned it. The engine creaked then shuddered before it started hacking like a patient with emphysema.

Shit.

She tried it again. This time the engine whirred into life, giving her hope. Then just as she was about to celebrate, it started trembling again, making weird chugging sounds.

 _Nononono. Please, Doris, don't bail on me girl. Not now._

She turned the ignition off, saying a short prayer before she flicked it back again. It didn't even budge this time.

Her eyes darted to Alcide, who dashed to her side and flung his arms against the roof of her car.

"That doesn't sound good."

"Nope." She shook her head, gripping the steering wheel tightly. "Not good at all."

"I can take a look at it, if you want?"

"You know anythin' about cars?"

Alcide shook his head no. "But I can pretend."

Sookie chuckled as she climbed out of her seat and popped the hood. The metal frame was hot to the touch. White fumes billowed out as soon as the hood was lifted. She stepped back quickly, accidentally bumping against Alcide, who was hovering behind her.

"Crap!"

She dug inside her purse for her cell. Living with an automotive mechanic surely had its perks. And when it came to her old and battered Doris, Jason only had one thing to teach her: _when it's a-steamin' you go a-runnin'_.

In her haste to call her brother though, she had mistakenly dialed Jason's old number, which, she realized belatedly, was now in the possession of Eric.

"Sookie?" Eric's voice blared from the other line after the third ring.

Her chest tightened at the sound of his voice. She chalked it up to the carbon monoxide she had just ingested.

"Hi," she said softly. "Um… is Jason there?"

"He's in his room. Why?"

"Want me to call time of death on your trusty steed?" Alcide butted in beside her, while poking his head toward the smoking hood.

There was a pause from the other line. She wondered if Eric had heard Alcide on the background. She certainly hoped not. She didn't want to give Eric the wrong idea.

"Who's that?" Eric asked after a while.

"That's Alcide. He's um…" she struggled for words.

 _Wait. Why the hell am I so nervous? I don't owe him any explanation._

"The doc's there, huh?" Eric's voice dropped a few octaves lower.

He sounded angry.

"Yeah, he's here. Um, the thing is my car isn't workin' and I -"

"I can give you ride," Alcide chimed in again, which wasn't helping at all.

There was a short pause in the next line before Eric spoke again.

"Stay there. I'm coming to get you," Eric said.

" _You're_ comin' here?" Sookie asked, taken aback by Eric's earnestness.

"Jason and I are going to pick you up," Eric elaborated. " _Wait for_ _me_."

Ironically, Eric didn't wait for her to reply before he hung up, leaving Sookie gaping at her cell.

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric.**

 **Here's the next chapter as promised. Hope you like it. The next one will be up soon! As always, this wouldn't be possible without the pro-bono work of the rockstar MsStitcher!**

 **Gong xi fa cai loves!**


	14. Chapter 14

Previously...

 _"Jason and I are going to pick you up," Eric elaborated. "_ Wait for me. _"_

 _Ironically, Eric didn't wait for her to reply before he hung up, leaving Sookie gaping at her cell._

* * *

"So Eric's coming?" Alcide asked as they kept a lookout for the cavalry to arrive.

They were leaning against the bumper of Tara's jeep overlooking Doris.

Sookie nodded as she stared at her car's gaping hood. The smoke was already dissipating, which was probably a good sign.

"How did you meet him?"

Sookie pulled her cardigan tighter before crossing her arms over chest. This was exactly why she didn't want to be alone with Alcide. She was trying to avoid another interrogation.

"Tinder," she replied without glancing at her companion.

"Huh." Alcide shoved his hands in his pockets, seemingly unconvinced.

"What?" Sookie asked, her own curiosity betraying her.

"Nothing." He shook his head. "I just didn't realize you were into that kind of stuff."

"What do you mean?"

His condescending tone was beginning to grate on her nerves.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Sook, but I always thought you were sort of old-fashioned." Alcide pressed his lips together and gave her a one-shoulder shrug. "You know, the kind of woman who ends up with someone who lives closer to home. Someone she grew up with..." He let the though trail off.

Sookie snorted. "That narrows down my options to Hoyt, Sam and Lafayette then."

Alcide laughed. "Sorry to burst your bubble but I don't think you're Lafayette's type."

Sookie chuckled too, not because she found the comment funny but because she didn't want to address the elephant in the damned parking lot. She wasn't stupid. She knew where Alcide was going with this. And that was the kind of topic she didn't want to get into.

"Where's Eric from by the way?"

"New York." At least that's what he told her.

"Louisiana's a long way from the Big Apple, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I guess so."

"What happens when he goes back to New York?"

A sharp shooting pain went straight to her chest. Alcide was dissecting her fake relationship with Eric and all that probing was giving her real pain.

"I dunno. We haven't thought that far ahead." She jutted her chin up and gave Alcide a sideway glance. "How about you? What's gonna happen to you and Debbie when you go back to Nepal? You are plannin' on goin' back there, right?"

Alcide nodded. "I am. There's still so much to be done in Nepal. It'll take years to rebuild that place. People need medicine, clean water, food, and most of all, volunteers who are willing and able to help. Just because they're no longer in the news doesn't mean they should be forgotten."

Sookie couldn't help but crack a smile. Times like these reminded her why she originally fell in love with Alcide.

"When are you goin' back?"

"I don't know yet. We're still in the process of raising funds and finding volunteers." He turned to her and smiled. "Would you like to come?"

She jerked back, blinking in confusion. "I-I'm not a doctor."

"So? You took biochemistry for your pre-med, right? If that's not impressive enough, you can always apply for general logistician, Lord knows we need more of those. Working in the field can be disastrous without management. And you know how to speak French, that's already an advantage."

"Cajun French," she corrected him.

"Still more than what I can say for myself. Plus, MSF will look good on your resume when you apply for med school, don't you think?"

Sookie became pensive. Once upon a time, not so long ago, she had imagined what it would be like working side by side with Alcide - see him every day, watch him save lives.

"What about Debbie? Is she coming too?" She had to ask.

Alcide hung his head and pounded the hard-packed soil with the heel of his shoe. "Debbie and I aren't together anymore."

 _That_. That was news.

Sookie studied Alcide closely, staring at him while waiting for the angels to sing Halleluiah.

There were only crickets though. Perhaps the angels would sing later, when the news had completely sunk in.

"Since when?" her voice was faltering

"Since the failed kidney transplant," Alcide murmured, massaging the back of his neck.

"But that was years ago," Sookie said, befuddled. "I remembered you vouching for her then."

Alcide sighed heavily. "Yeah, well. It was the last favor I did for her before we split up." He straightened his back and let out another sigh. "I thought I could get past it."

Sookie stared at him long and hard, conflicted. "She made a mistake, Alcide. Even surgeons have bad days."

"I know that," Alcide's voice rose defensively. He glanced at her then closed his eyes and took a deep calming breath. "The problem is, Debbie didn't want to admit it was her fault. She didn't want to be held accountable for what happened. And that infuriated me. How could I be with someone who couldn't accept that she, like everyone else, was fallible?"

Sookie couldn't come up with anything to say. She should have been celebrating, throwing confetti in the air while doing somersaults because Alcide had finally seen Debbie for the self-serving, snooty bitch that she was.

Yet, here she was, rendered speechless as she waited for her heart to go ba-dump.

Zilch.

She felt nothing.

Alcide turned to look at her and laughed, which sounded a little forced. "Look at me, rambling like an idiot."

"You're not rambling," she murmured, her gaze falling on her lap. "I'm sorry it didn't work out for you and Debbie."

She wasn't sorry, not even a bit. But she felt like it needed to be said.

"Are you?" Alcide asked, making her head snap to face him. He didn't sound acerbic but genuinely curious. "Are you really sorry Debbie and I broke up?"

Sookie didn't like where this line of questioning was heading so she decided to plea the Fifth.

"I lied," Alcide said when she didn't respond. "I went by your farmhouse the same day I got back but it was already so late so I decided to leave. 'Sides, I haven't seen you in three years; I didn't want you to see me looking like the abominable snowman."

Why was he telling her all these now?

"Alcide…" she started, uncertain how to proceed.

He chuckled while shaking his head. "I have the worst timing, huh?"

"Yeah, you do," murmured someone from behind.

Sookie and Alcide turned around at the same time to see Eric standing behind them, with a grim look on his face.

"Eric!" Sookie yelped as soon as she saw him while taking a couple of steps to the side to widen the gap between her and Alcide. Her reaction was purely out of reflex. It wasn't like she was guilty of anything.

"Are you okay?" Eric asked in a low tone that made the hair at the back of her head bristle. She had never heard him speak like that, so serious, so mutinous, so… terrifyingly serious.

She never thought she'd miss the cheeky Eric, the cocky guy with the perpetual sneer.

Eric stepped forward, wedging himself between her and Alcide.

"Eric," Alcide muttered behind them, making his presence felt. "You're looking better."

Eric turned around and zoomed in on the doctor. "I'm feeling better," he replied tersely.

The two men regarded each other in silence.

Alcide was the first to break. "You didn't have to come all the way here, you know. I wouldn't mind giving Sookie a ride."

"Obviously," Eric murmured under his breath.

Eric remained shuttered, while Alcide squared his shoulders. Sookie swallowed hard. She couldn't handle this kind of awkwardness. In her effort to diffuse the tension, she seized Eric's fisted hand and tugged it.

"When did you get here? Where's Jason?" she asked, pulling Eric's attention away from Alcide.

"Right here," Jason yelled behind them, careening toward them in his track pants and tattered Bon Temp High shirt.

It was a good thing the party was over because clearly Jason was pushing it with his 'overly' casual attire.

"Where have you been?" Sookie turned to her brother.

"Checking my tires for a dead squirrel," Jason spat, giving Eric the stink eye. "There's none, thank God."

"Why would there be a dead squirrel in your tires?" she asked.

"Why don't you ask Schumi right here?" Jason waved his thumb in Eric's direction.

"He's convinced I ran one over on the way here," Eric replied without looking at her, his tone still chillingly cold.

"You drove here?" she asked incredulously.

"Correction…" Jason interjected. "He didn't drive, he fuckin' flew. He's like a demon possessed by another demon. I was shocked he even heard me givin' him directions. "

"You let him drive?" Sookie snapped at Jason, flicking his shirt with the back of her hand.

"Let him? Ha! He didn't even give me time to change my clothes. I was sleeping soundly when he hauled me out of bed and practically dragged my ass into my truck and assumed ownership of Betsy. Oh, and by the way…" Jason fixed his gaze on Eric. "you, my friend, are never allowed to drive Betsy again."

"You shouldn't be driving that fast, Eric. In fact, you shouldn't be driving at all," Alcide gave his medical opinion.

Sookie winced as she felt Eric's balled hand clench beneath her grip.

 _Damn it Alcide, shut the hell up!_

Jason's eyes ping-ponged from Alcide, to Sookie and lastly to Eric, comprehension washing over him.

"I see," Jason muttered mostly to himself as his gaze flickered back to Alcide. "Now I understand."

"Understand what?" Alcide asked.

Jason shook his head, grinning. "Nothing." He turned to Sookie. "Where's Doris?"

Sookie blinked her eyes into focus. "It's, um, it's right there." She pointed her chin toward the ailing vehicle.

Jason followed the white smoke and the rest of them made a beeline to her yellow Honda. She released Eric's hand but he grabbed it right back. She was about to protest but no word came out of her mouth.

Alcide and Jason huddled by the hood of her car, while Eric remained by her side, holding her hand like a vice. She might need a crowbar to pry his fingers off of hers.

Sookie furrowed her brows as she regarded Eric closely. She could see the bunched up muscles leaping against his jaw as he stared at Alcide and Jason.

 _What are you thinking, Eric?_

If only she could read minds.

It didn't take Jason long to examine the extent of the damage of her car's engine as he jogged up to them after a few minutes of tinkering. "Looks like the head gasket blew up. We're gonna have to replace it. But I have to tell you, gaskets don't come cheap. It might be better to replace the car than buy an expensive part."

"She's right there, Jase," Sookie snapped. Doris was family. She had been with her for years. Hell, she even survived Katrina.

Jason's arms shot up. "I'm just sayin'-"

"Don't say it." Sookie cut him off. "You know how I am with her. She's my first."

Alcide stepped in. "She's right Jase. They have history together. It's not something you can easily replace."

"History?" Eric snorted beside her. "Yeah, that's what Sookie will be if she sticks to Doris. There's nothing wrong with getting something new, something better, something that won't give her false hopes only to leave her high and dry in the middle of the road."

"Something new isn't always better," Alcide lobbed, straightening his spine.

"Her first doesn't have to be her last," Eric shot back.

Sookie and Jason exchanged a look. Her brother must have been thinking the same thing: Eric and Alcide weren't debating about Doris anymore.

"It's about time Sookie gets rid of unwanted baggage anyway," Eric jabbed as he puffed up his chest and gave Alcide the stare down.

Alcide's eye twitched at the barb. He opened his mouth to refute but Sookie was quick to block his view as she placed a hand on Eric's chest. "Eric, a word?"

Eric managed to skewer Alcide with another glare before Sookie could yank him toward the chapel. Out of the corner of her eye she spied Jason, her ever reliable brother, pulling Alcide toward Doris, giving Sookie and Eric as much distance as possible.

As soon as they were out of earshot Sookie's grin vanished, replaced by a frown. "What the hell was that? Would you mind telling me why you're picking a fight with Alcide?"

"Isn't it obvious? That guy is clearly hitting on you," Eric shot back without a moment's hesitation.

Sookie drew up short. She wasn't expecting that much candor from him.

"Are you… jealous?"

"Yes."

Again, the frankness made her stagger.

"Why?" She sounded like a fool for asking, but she had to be certain.

 _What is going on in that pretty little head of yours, Eric?_

"Because…" Eric, for the first time tonight, looked stumped. He drew back as he stared at her, seemingly lost. "Because as far as he's concerned, we're together. As far as he knows, you are mine and it pisses me off that he's trying to steal you from me."

His words hit her hard, making her heart thump.

"He doesn't want me," she hushed. It was infuriating how pathetic she sounded even to herself.

Eric's lips thinned. His eyes blazed as he shot her look. "What if he does?" He took a step closer, forcing her to look up. "What if I hadn't gotten here when I did and he asked you to dump me to be with him? What would you do, Sookie? Would you say yes?"

Her vision was getting blurry. She was near tears. Dammit, she hated crying.

She jutted her chin defiantly, hoping it would be enough to fend him off. His eyes remained mutinous though as he waited for her response.

In the end, Eric won. She hung her head and looked away.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he murmured before he turned on his heel and marched toward Jason's truck.

She could hear Jason's familiar footfalls behind her.

"Hey, you okay?" Jason asked as he closed the gap.

Sookie inhaled deeply before swiveling to face her brother. "Yup." She even bobbed her head to reiterate she was fine. "Can we go now?"

Jason gave her a look. "You sure?"

Sookie's gaze flickered to Eric, who was leaning against the door of the passenger seat of the truck, and huffed. "Can you believe that guy?"

Jason followed her gaze and sighed. "Honestly? I get it. Alcide is Eric's Chad."

Sookie arched her brow at her brother. "What?" Sometimes talking to Jason needed subtitles. This was one of those times.

Jason shrugged. "Remember Chad? The Sheriff's cousin?"

Sookie came up blank.

"About this tall?" Jason's hand hovered a few inches over his head. "Dark hair, green eyes?"

Sookie shook her head.

"You'll know him when you see him. He has the look that makes you hate yourself." Jason's nose wrinkled in irritation. "Well, he's Crystal's regular in Fantasia. He comes in almost every night. Not your typical douchebag though. Chad's almost the same age as me, well-to-do, educated, can be charming when he wants to, and most of all he has two fully functioning legs. Every time he was in Fantasia, he would always ask for Crystal. Even when I was around, he'd still for ask her. It takes everything in me not to punch Chad's perfect teeth in every time he's with Crystal."

Sookie tried not to look at Jason. She felt sorry for her brother but she knew damn well never to show it. Jason would only resent her for her sympathy.

"Get it?" Jason asked her. "Alcide is Eric's Chad."

Sookie pouted before stealing another glance at Eric. "It's not the same, Jase. You actually like Crystal. Eric doesn't like me. He's just bein' territorial is all. It's an ego thing."

"No, Sook. It's a 'you' thing."

The lines on her forehead deepened. "What do you mean?"

"Sookie, Sookie, Sookie," Jason hummed as he shook his head. "And they say I'm the dumb one."

He strutted back to the truck, apparently impressed with himself as he whistled joyfully, before Sookie could ask him what he meant.

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric.**

 **Here's the second part of Sookie's POV. Next will be Eric's. Sorry for the slow pace. I hope you still like it. I appreciate your thoughts, always! Thank you!**

 **A loud holler to my gal MsStitcher, my fragile and adorable beta. Love ya!**

 **All mistakes are mine.**

 **xx**


	15. Chapter 15

**A/N: I was supposed to post this last week but real life held me hostage. My sincerest apologies. I suck at time management and I'm now playing catch up to my other WIPs as well as this story. I hope this chapter will make up for my shortcomings.**

There was only so much a guy could take before he totally lost his marbles.

He had been expecting it for quite some time now, actually. That proverbial last straw.

He thought it would be when he found out Sylvie had flown back to her nest.

Or when Pam sent him to Louisiana.

Or when a couple of idiots debated whether to google how valuable his Patek Philippe was.

Or when he was stabbed by the aforementioned morons.

Or when he found out his CFO had run his company to the ground, while his oldest, most trusted comrade ended up in handcuffs.

Despite all those sucker punches, he managed to keep himself on an even keel.

Until Sookie entered the damn picture.

And that doctor. Her white knight in a fucking white coat.

For the record, he wasn't the jealous type. Jealousy was a by-product of insecurity. And there was definitely no lack of confidence here.

This, however, was uncharted territory. There were no variables to consider, no numbers to crunch, no patterns to analyze. This was a goddamn soap opera and he was stuck in the middle of it.

Hold up. If this was a rom-com, what would that make him? The villainous asshole who unwittingly provoked the leading man to grow a pair? Well, fuck me.

He could feel the siblings' eyes on him. _Go ahead Stackhouses, talk about the crazy person_.

Could he blame them? He had been erratic, temperamental, emotional and just plain batty since he saw Sookie rubbing elbows with that irritatingly self-righteous doctor earlier.

He wasn't certain what threw him off kilter. Was it when he overheard Doctor Dumbass make a bid for her? Or the idea that she might actually bite?

Ah, shit.

The ride back to the farmhouse was like having a colonoscopy without the sedative.

Even Jason's horrid Tim McGraw karaoke couldn't make the trip less awkward. By the time they reached the house, Sookie couldn't get out of the truck quick enough so she could hide in the safety of her own room.

Jason also went to bed and so he did too. This was one of those situations where it couldn't possibly get worse and a man just needed to sleep it off.

Unfortunately for him, his brain wasn't ready to shut down just yet. A couple of hours of trying to quiet the voices in his head, he admitted defeat. Maybe _Ulysses_ could lull him to sleep. With a grunt, he leapt out of bed and dashed out of the guest room. He didn't even bother to put his pants back on as he padded downstairs in his black wife beater and plaid boxers.

He made it to the living room like a mouse. Growing up under constant scrutiny of his sadistic father, Eric had learned how to be invisible. He moved in the darkened house with ease. Utilizing the soft glimmer from the porch light seeping through the gauzy curtains, he was able to locate _Ulysses_ tucked in the bookshelf. He was on his way back to his room when he decided to grab a bottle of beer, just in case _Ulysses_ failed to bore him to sleep.

He tiptoed to the kitchen and made a mad dash to the fridge. He was reaching for one of Jason's Bud Light when he heard a distinctive click before light flooded the entire room.

He yelped - God help him, he yelped like a teenage girl caught sneaking inside way after her curfew. He whipped around to see who flicked the damned switch.

Of course, it was Sookie, looking like a ghost in her white tank top and purple cotton pajama trousers.

"Cake?" she asked, grinning from ear to ear while holding out the slice of red velvet atop the plate in her hand.

He slowly straightened up, _Ulysses_ tucked under his armpit, and shut the fridge door with his foot.

Her smile slowly vanished as her eyes raked his scantily-clad form. Her reaction made his lips curl into a smirk.

 _Who needs beer when I can have cake and eat it too?_

"We should really stop meeting like this," he murmured as he swaggered toward her. "Me, sneaking up on you in the middle of the night - people might start to get the wrong idea."

He couldn't help but notice how her free arm snaked around her torso to cover her chest. Was she wearing a bra? Could he really be so lucky?

" _You_ snuck up on _me_?" She shook her head defiantly. "Who turned on the light while you were busy gettin' a beer?"

"What makes you think I'm not reaching for a box of milk?"

"Please. If you were, you would've turned on the lights."

"Says the girl eating cake in the dark."

She shrugged. "I don't want the carbs to find me."

He sniggered. "I didn't know you're watching your weight."

"Well now you do."

"You don't have to. It's actually refreshing to see a woman who looked like she actually eats. I like it."

Her gaze fell to her feet as if she was uncertain how to take the compliment.

She regained her composure quickly though as she jutted her chin up. "Don't like me too much, Eric. It'll be a pain to get over me when you go back to New York."

Her comment made him pause and smile. This girl came out to play. "Are you flirting with me, Sookie?"

"I don't need to," she lobbed back with a sly grin. "Judging by the way you reacted earlier, you're already hooked. You're in _lurrve_ with me."

His jaw slackened. He knew she wasn't serious. He knew she was only trying to make light of an intense situation, giving him a free pass for acting like the village idiot. He knew. But what she didn't know was how close she was to what he really felt. And how he wished she wasn't joking because that would make everything so much easier for him.

Before he could come up with anything remotely droll, she laughed and slapped his bare shoulder. "Relax. I'm just messin' with you. I know you're not in love with me."

 _What if…_ he didn't let himself finish that thought.

"Look -" she started without a hint of levity, "about Alcide, you don't need to apologize."

He wasn't going to. Alcide was a dick.

"I understand why you acted that way. As much as I like Alcide -"

"So you admit it. You like him," he cut her off.

She paused, seemingly perturbed at his query. "I'd be lying if I say I don't."

 _Lie, goddammit! Give me a big fat lie and I'll take it. Just don't kill me with the truth._

"Why?" He couldn't resist asking. _Why him?_

She blinked fast, grasping for words. "He's a good man."

He arched his brow urging her to continue. He refused to take that fucking catchall umbrella.

"Who wouldn't like him?" she said with a shrug as she walked over to sit in one of the wooden dining chairs.

 _Me._

"He's the dream," she continued, while skimming the icing on top of the cake with the tip of her fork. "He's a kick-ass trauma surgeon; he works with Doctors Without Borders; he's not hard on the eyes and has phenomenal biceps. Women would skin each other alive for someone like him."

Eric fought the urge to roll his eyes as he crossed his arms over his chest. He might have flexed his arms a little too, in case Sookie had missed the gun show right here.

"If you put it like that, he sounds like a prize and I'm sure he'd be a good candidate for _The Bachelor_ but I still -"

" _The Bachelor_?" she asked, blinking in confusion.

"Aw c'mon don't give me that look. Surely you've watched that shit. I haven't met a single girl who doesn't follow that crap like some kind of religion."

She shook her head. "Doesn't ring a bell. Is it on cable? Because we don't have basic cable."

"I noticed." He sighed. God, he hated himself so much right now. "It's a reality show where one guy gets to hook up with a bunch of gorgeous women without the fear of being called a douchebag."

"It's not true love if it's not on TV, right?" she deadpanned.

Eric was about to chuckle in agreement until he noticed Sookie's lips twitching, her eyes gleaming wickedly. And that's when he realized he had been played.

"You are evil," he muttered, pinning her with a glare.

"Ain't my fault you're so gullible," she teased amid her laugh. "For the record though, I don't watch that crap either. If I wanna hear ladies bitch and tear each other up over a dude all I need to do is go to work."

He bit the insides of his cheeks to keep his stoic façade intact.

"Are you done?" he lobbed back. "Can we resume the adult conversation now?"

She waved her hand in the air, as though trying to dispel humor. "Okay, okay. I'm done. Where were we?"

"You were telling me why you're obsessed with the doctor." He scooped a sliver of icing with his finger and licked it. "Is it because he saved your brother from all those bullies years ago?"

Sookie's smile disappeared. "I see you and Jason have been chattin' while I'm away."

"That's what happens when you have no basic cable."

She chuckled at that.

"If you ask me, I think you're infatuation with him is overrated."

Yes, infatuation. He wouldn't use the word love in the same breath as Alcide. No fucking way.

"Overrated?" She shook her head in disapproval. "I've pined for him since I learned what the word pining meant. He's my Superman."

Eric's jaw tightened. Sookie could be obliviously cruel sometimes.

"You see there's the rub, Sookie. Superman is a fucking joke," he pointed out, taking the seat beside her. "That's why I don't buy this 'I love Alcide' shit. The way I see it, you only like him because of Jason. Because he saved him from those jackasses a long time ago. You said it yourself, you see him as Superman – a goddamned superhero. Isn't it possible that your young mind had somehow over-romanticized your past?"

She gaped at him, brows arched in confusion. "What?"

"Think about it. You felt guilty for what happened to Jason, yes?"

She looked down at her lap. He felt bad for bringing it up but he needed to prove a point.

"It was only logical that you would feel indebted to the person who showed compassion toward your brother. You saw Alcide as your brother's savior, your Superman. You made him into something bigger than he actually was. You had this idea in your head that he was perfect and that you'd be happy with him. So you chased him, your big white whale."

Sookie's shoulders sagged, seemingly deflated. It was a struggle to keep his arms to himself and not wrap them around her.

"Why do you have to analyze how I feel about Alcide?"

 _Because I like you_ , he almost blurted out. "Occupational hazard, I guess. I'm used to telling people how to invest wisely. I just don't want to see you invest your heart to someone who takes a lifetime deciding if you're worth the risk."

Sookie turned silent, pensive for a moment.

"Is that how you feel about Sylvie? Is she worth the risk?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you're so analytical, then tell me, why do you like her?"

It was a classic case of deflection. He didn't mind though, he didn't know how many times he had to say Alcide's name before he clogged an artery.

He shrugged. "That's easy. She's hot."

Sookie laughed. "Wow. That's deep," she said in a dry tone.

He chortled too. "What do you want me to say? That she makes me want to be a better man?"

"You brutally dissected my 'infatuation' with Alcide, the least you can do is prove to me that you know what you're talkin' about."

She had a good point. "Okay, where do you want me to begin?"

"Chapter one."

He gulped for air as he geared up for the storytelling. "Okay, so I met Sylvie in France roughly seven years ago. I was accompanying my brother to a wine auction. Godric was a collector – books, wines, nothing weird – and let's just say, he had a tendency to go overboard so he asked me to keep him within his budget, which was already insane to begin with. In short, I was to keep his cheque book on a tight leash. Sylvie came from a family of winemakers, so obviously our paths were bound to cross. From the moment I saw her in her tight red dress, I knew I was a goner."

Sookie's stance shifted. She sat up straighter as her hand fluttered across her collarbone nervously. As if sensing his gaze, she dropped her hand to the table and started fiddling with the fork.

"Her English was horrible and my French wasn't any better. So the next day I went to buy an English-French dictionary and went straight to her hotel room to ask her out. I didn't even get to say 'bonjour' before she pulled me in her room and, well…" His lips curved into a lopsided grin. "What we did next didn't get lost in translation."

"You had sex, I got it," Sookie grunted, waving her hand impatiently. "And then?"

He was pleased with her reaction but decided not to put too much stock in it so he continued. "We dated for a few weeks. Godric ended up with an overpriced bottle of Bordeaux and I spent the rest of my Parisian trip with a rare French. It didn't last of course, I had to go back to the US and Sylvie had to stay and take care of the family business. So we parted ways but not without promising I'd come back for her. Unfortunately, that was the same year the market crashed."

Eric paused to take a breath. Seven years and that fucking recession still haunted him.

"I lost grasp of reality, I was disillusioned. I've forgotten all about Sylvie. I've forgotten about everyone else but myself. I became the person my father expected me to be."

Sookie regarded him with quiet sympathy, so he tried to blasé with a toothy smile and a casual shrug. "I didn't want to disappoint the Colonel so I dutifully sank deeper."

Sookie held up a finger and arched her brow. "You call your father 'Colonel'?" She leaned in. "Does he make great fried chicken?"

He grinned. "Oh Sookie, you're lucky you're pretty."

She laughed as blood rushed to her face. Fuck, she better stop blushing like a virgin or it'd be his doom.

"Can I go back to telling the rest of my story?" he asked, feigning irritation, shifting carefully to hide the growing bulge in his flimsy boxers.

She motioned for him to continue with a flick of her hand.

"Where was I?" he murmured, tapping his finger to his chin.

"You were tellin' me how you dug a pit for yourself," she supplied without skipping a beat. Oh how he loved their evening chats.

"Right, so basically I was a soul-sucking D-bag for two years until my brother died. It was my wake-up call. He was one of the few people who believed I wasn't scum; I didn't want him to have died a liar."

Sookie's eyes softened as her teeth dug into her lower lip.

"I decided it was time to crawl out of my hole and seek professional help. A friend suggested travelling so I did; I went to Sweden, my parents' hometown and stayed with my maternal aunt. A couple of months later, I went to France. I found Sylvie right where I left her. To my utter shock, she took me back without so much as a fight and we picked up where we left off. When I decided to return home I asked her to come with me and she did. I wished I could say we lived happily ever after but we both know that's bull."

He felt exhausted after his spiel. With Sookie still digesting his words, he decided to divert his attention to the half-eaten cake on top of the table.

He forked a big chunk and gobbled it up. He was aware that they were sharing a utensil. It was almost like kissing her and that thought excited him.

"So I guess to answer your question, the reason I loved Sylvie was because she wasn't complicated. In a way she made life easy for me."

"Loved?" she asked. "Don't you love her anymore? What happened to that 'fully invested' crap you tried to sell me last night?"

He stopped chewing at once. It was a slip of the tongue. Or was it?

"I don't know," he replied with all sincerity. "I haven't really thought of her that much since…"

"The mugging?" Sookie tried to finish for him.

He honestly had no idea. He couldn't pinpoint the exact time when Sylvie had started to become irrelevant.

"You prolly just got a lot goin' on right now," she tried to save him with a lame excuse. Although he knew, deep inside, that wasn't true.

"D'you mind if I ask you somethin' personal?" Sookie queried, leaning in closer.

"This isn't personal enough for you?" he countered with a smirk. She gave him a look, which only widened his grin. "Shoot," he gave her permission, taking another mouthful of the pastry.

"If Sylvie made life easy for you, then why didn't you call her when you got hurt?"

"She's in France, remember?"

Sookie leaned back in her chair and shook her head. "What a crock o' shit." She jabbed her finger in the air. "You mean to say the woman who waited for you for two years; took you back without so much as a pout; left her family to start a new life with you wouldn't come running to bail you out if she had known you were hurt and stranded in the middle of nowhere?"

The question stumped him for a moment. Then it dawned on him.

"I guess I was afraid she would come."

Now it was Sookie who looked confused. "Isn't that what you want? Isn't that why you kept her ring?"

"I don't want her to come back out of necessity. I want her to come back because she changed her mind."

"Changed her mind about what?"

"About us."

The creases along her forehead deepened.

"She wants a date. And she wants it within the next six months."

Sookie clapped her hand to her mouth and shook her head. "Well that's just despicable! The woman you love wants to marry you right away."

Her sarcasm was biting.

"Our situation is a little more nuanced than that."

She merely stared at him with an arched brow.

"My company was about to take off, she knew that. She knew how critical it was for me to keep all my ducks in a row."

Her lips thinned to a taut unforgiving line.

He was beginning to sweat. It was unbelievable how she could make him feel this much guilt without saying a word.

His shoulders sagged in defeat. "I'm not a jerk," was all he could add to his defense.

"Yes, you are," she muttered under her breath before she leaned in and jabbed an accusing finger at him. "You're being unfair, Eric. She gave up so much for you. Waited for you. Rearranged her life so you could fit in. The least you can do is honor your fuckin' word and not treat her like a back-up plan."

She was almost panting when she drew away from him.

Why was she getting worked up over Sylvie? She hadn't even met her.

He stared at her, stunned, at a loss for words. Then it finally clicked. Sookie wasn't defending Sylvie. She was defending herself.

Comprehension must have washed over his face because before he could utter a word, Sookie was already on her feet.

"I'm goin' to bed. Just put the plate in the sink after you're done."

No. He couldn't let her leave like that. He had to at least say something.

"Sookie."

Her steps halted. She had her back to him and it seemed she had no plan of facing him.

What could he say? Everything she said about him was true. He hadn't been fair. He had held Sylvie hostage for four years, maybe even longer. He gave her a ring to tide her over. It wasn't a proposal, it was a fucking bribe. Stay and you could keep this rock. He didn't even lift a muscle to try to stop her when she left. Sylvie _was_ his back-up plan - his safety net because he couldn't afford to hit rock bottom again.

He was so furious at the doctor for leading Sookie on when he was operating under the same M.O. with Sylvie.

He noticed Sookie's shoulder trembling a little. Fuck, was she crying?

"You're not a back-up plan," he hushed as he walked up behind her.

She turned around slowly, her big blue eyes rimmed with unshed tears.

"I'm not stupid. I know why Alcide is throwing his hat in the ring now. It's not because he loves me. It's because he _needs_ me to love him."

Sookie, in her pained wisdom, got him thinking. Was that why he sought out Sylvie? Because he needed someone to fill the void after he lost his brother? Was that why he proposed to her in the first place? Because he felt her drifting away and the thought of being lonely terrified him?

She took his hand squeezed it. "Stop bein' a jerk, Eric. If Sylvie is the one who can make you happy then don't postpone your happiness. She's not gonna wait for you forever."

What did she mean by that? Was she done waiting for Alcide? Or was she only trying to persuade him to do the right thing.

She let go of his hand and walked out of the kitchen.

He couldn't find the words to stop her. She was right, though. It was time to practice what he preached. Time to put his life back on its axis and chase his own white whale.

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric.**

 **A big shout out to the amazing MsStitcher, who, despite her busy schedule, is still willing to beta for me. Love you!**

 **Sorry if I wasn't able to reply to your thoughtful reviews. I'll try to make it up to you… that's a promise. Much much love.**

 **Much much love!**


	16. Chapter 16

Sookie woke up with a start. She pulled her knees to her chest, buried her face in her hands and felt herself tremble.

She'd had a nightmare.

It had been a long time since she remembered having one. After Jason lost his leg, her nights had always been plagued with night terrors.

Of blood and rope. Of Jason's Louisville slugger and the sound of cracking bones. Of muffled screams and ear-splitting cries.

She had learned to deal with them. Gone were the nights when she woke up shaking and sweating. _They were only memories and fears rolled into one, child_ , her grandmother would always remind her.

This nightmare wasn't plucked out of memory though. It was confusing and terrifying and upsetting and it was making her head swirl.

She closed her eyes and the images came rushing back.

 _Of the beautiful, sophisticated woman in a tight ruby dress, with long, shiny black hair and tanned legs that seemed to go on forever. She had deep brown eyes, blood-red lips and the perfect nose Sookie could never afford. Arguably the most gorgeous woman Sookie had ever seen._

 _She was everything Sookie wasn't._

 _The woman saw her and beckoned her with a curl of her manicured finger. Sookie was positively entranced as she walked toward the stranger. Her nostrils flared as she caught a whiff of the woman's perfume. It was intoxicating - warm amber and sandalwood – strong and intimidating. The kind you put on when expecting company._

 _Lady In Red's lips twitched as she smiled. Or was that a sneer? Sookie couldn't tell, she was under the woman's spell._

 _Then as Sookie got closer, the woman lifted her hand and dragged her delicately tapered fingers through Sookie's hair, sliding down to her neck. As though she was marking her. This was beginning to feel like a start of a very bad porn._

" _You're pretty," the woman whispered. It didn't sound like a compliment though. It was more of an insult. As though the stranger wanted to say,_ 'You're good, but I'm better.'

 _Sookie could feel herself shrinking, shrivelling under her scrutiny. She wanted to shake herself out of her trance. But before she could pull away, the woman's fingers wrapped around her neck._

" _No one wants a broken toy, Sookie," the woman purred before her fingers started to squeeze._

 _Squeezing, squeezing, squeezing - wringing the life out of her._

"I'm not broken," Sookie murmured to herself, hugging both her knees while rocking back and forth. "I'm not broken."

It took her a while to compose herself.

 _Hide the crazy, Sookie_ , she had to remind herself over and over as she made her way to the bathroom.

She resisted the urge to sneak a glance in Eric's room. It was still too early for him to be up. And she was still pretty shaken from that disturbing dream.

She took a quick shower, brushed her teeth, changed into her uniform and padded downstairs into the kitchen to grab a quick breakfast before heading to the salt mines. To her surprise, there already was a fresh pot of coffee waiting for her on the counter.

She went to the window by the sink and the peeked at the driveway. Jason's truck was no longer there. Her brother must have left early to tow Doris from the chapel's parking lot. Bless him. For the first time that morning, she had a reason to smile.

She glanced at her watch. Ten minutes past eight. She cursed out loud. She had to go; without Doris she would have to walk to Merlotte's. She might not even have time to enjoy a good cuppa joe.

The advantage of living in a small town like Bon Temps was almost everything was within walking distance. However, it would still take her at least twenty minutes to get to Merlotte's on foot.

She went to get her sling bag off the coat rack by the front door when she decided to leave Eric a note. She didn't want him to wake up to an empty house.

 _Eric,_ she started scribbling. _Jason and I went to work early. There's frozen lasagna in the freezer in case_ -

Wait- why leave a note when she could tell him herself?

She should just march back upstairs, knock on his door and wish him a good day. That's what a good hostess would do. She was only being polite. Not because she wanted to see him before she left. Not. At. All.

She was about to tap on his door when she noticed it was slightly ajar. She pushed it all the way in and peered inside. Her heart immediately sank. His bed was empty. She stepped inside and called out his name.

No one answered.

She crossed over to the dresser and checked the neatly folded clothes on top. She couldn't find any of his original clothes in the pile.

What if he had already left?

After all, she was the one who told him to get his fiancée back. To stop being a self-absorbed jackass and start chasing his happiness.

 _Tremendous job, Sookie, you finally got what you want._

* * *

 **E/S**

Saturdays in Merlotte's meant only one thing: back breaking work. Whoever came up with the idea of brunch was a sadist, and Sam should be punished jumping onto the bandwagon. As if the Saturday lunch crowd wasn't big and rowdy enough, he had to include weekend brunches too.

It was almost noon and the 'brunch crowd' (mostly kids as young as two and senior citizens as old as 82 - who in Sookie's opinion were the most demanding and hardest to please bunch) was still pouring in. Orders were flying in faster than they were coming out and as if that wasn't bad enough, Lafayette's assistant, Terry, had yet to show up for his shift.

The customers were getting antsy. Kids were squealing and running, knocking over ketchup bottles while the seniors were giving speeches as to how parenting had devolved over the years.

While the other waitresses were dealing with the chaos outside, Sookie decided to help diffuse a different battle in the kitchen.

"Terry best have the Spanish flu, 'cuz if I find out he was AWOL with just a sniffle I swear I'mma give him somethin' to cry to the doctor about," Lafayette grumbled as he flipped endless strips of bacon and over easy eggs on the flattop while constantly testing the chicken in the deep fryer.

Sookie just shook her head and tittered as she wiped beads of sweat from her forehead with her apron.

"Peaches you missed a spot." Lafayette pointed his spatula to his nose.

Sookie checked her reflection in the toaster and saw the big white dot on her nose –a mixture of flour and sweat. She had been mixing batters for pancake and waffles for hours and her arm was starting to burn.

The bell at the service window dinged and two more orders of chicken and waffles were called. "Sook, keep those waffles comin'," Arlene, one of the wait staff, chimed in.

Sookie gave her a nod as she continued whisking egg whites.

"Speakin' of waffles, d'you have more of that red velvet cake from yesterday?"

"No, hon, sorry."

"Well shee-it. I didn't get to take home any 'cuz a certain red-haired minx," he turned toward the window, where Arlene was still standing waiting for her order, "took it upon herself to bring home three slices. One slice per guest, bitch."

Arlene's head popped in the window and bared her teeth at Lafayette. "You snooze you lose hooka," she volleyed back.

All three of them laughed. After years of working together, they learned how to talk smack and take it with as much finesse.

"Hey Arlene, whaddaya say I do you a solid and take table two?" Maudette's thick voice cut through the sound of their laughter.

"Why?" Arlene asked.

Sookie and Lafayette whipped their heads toward the window at the same time. Maudette, bless her heart, had never been known for her selflessness.

"'Cause you're swamped, sugar," Maudette replied in her syrupy tone, which she usually reserved for her big tippers.

Sookie and Lafayette shared a look, smelling something rotten in Denmark. Something's a-brewing and Sookie and Lafayette wanted in on the action as they rushed to the window to take a peek. Lafayette beat Sookie to the punch and all Sookie could do was to peer over Lafayette's broad, albeit sweaty, shoulder.

"My, my, my, gimme a margarita and a beach chair because that hunka meat is sizzlin'," Lafayette crooned before smacking his lips together.

"Where?" Sookie stood on her tiptoes to try to get a good look at the 'hunka meat' on table two. Lafayette playfully shoved her to the side.

"Nonono, baby girl, this ain't PG-material, just go back to whiskin' your eggs and leave the grown-ups alone."

Sookie swatted Lafayette's arm before she pushed her way in front of him.

"I already called dibs Lala," Maudette grumbled.

"Dibs my ass, hooka. He's fair game. You don't even know if he's straight."

Sookie's mouth gaped as she finally caught a glimpse of the meat du jour. "Oh he's straight. He's definitely straight."

Lafayette's perfect eyebrows knotted, while Maudette and Arlene whisked around to face Sookie. But before they could ask her how she knew, Sookie was already dashing out of the kitchen and into the dining area.

* * *

 **E/S**

"What're you doin' here?" Sookie whisper-hissed at the newcomer.

She raised her hand at Maudette, who was scurrying toward the table, and like a trained seal, the bosomy brunette halted abruptly.

Eric, who was making a big show of appraising the menu, lifted his eyes to meet hers. "Is that how you greet customers? No wonder they all look so grumpy."

She put one hand on her hip while the other lay flat on the table. "Don't sass me, buddy. I'm in no mood to be sassed. What're you doin' here? And more importantly, how did you get here?"

"I need a job," he answered with a smirk.

Out of the corner of Sookie's eye, she could see Maudette advancing again. She turned to her co-worker and smiled. "Dette, I think Mrs. Bodehouse is callin' you."

Maudette huffed. "Dibs, Sook. Respect the dibs," she whispered before darted to the counter to give Mrs. Bodehouse, her third Bloody Mary.

Sookie returned her attention back to Eric, whose smirk had widened into a full-blown grin.

"We're doin' just fine here, thank you very much."

"It doesn't look like it."

"Dagnabit Eric, stop horsin' around and go the fuck home."

He tsked while shaking his head. "Isn't it too early for such language, lover?"

Sookie opened her mouth to lob something back at him until she felt someone standing behind her. She whisked her head around to see Sam, hair ruffled as usual, smiling. He wasn't looking at her though. His gaze was directed to Eric.

Eric peeled himself off the booth and extended his hand to her boss.

"Morning," Eric greeted with his charming smirk. "Sorry it took me a while. Jason had to wait for Tray in the shop before he could drop me here."

"Nah, that's fine. Are you sure you don't mind?"

"I'm here to serve," Eric said, tipping an imaginary hat.

"Hold it," Sookie butted in, her eyes ping-ponging from Eric to Sam. "What're you two talkin' about?"

"Oh, I hired Eric to help me look at my finances, I wanna get another loan from the bank to replace the walk-in fridge," Sam supplied.

"You hired him?"

Eric puffed up his chest, looking annoyingly smug.

"When did this happen?"

"This morning," Sam replied. "I saw him in Tray's shop when I dropped by earlier to get a new coolant for the truck. They're workin' on your car. We got to talkin' and I found out Eric here is a banker back in New York so I asked him for help. I'll pay him of course, Louisiana rate, right?" Sam winked.

"Louisiana rate," Eric parroted.

Sookie looked at Eric. "You were helping Jason fix Doris? Why?"

"Because I realized it's futile to reason with you. And since you made it quite clear last night that you're not ready to part ways with Doris, the least I can do is to make sure she doesn't blow up with you in it."

Eric punctuated his sentence with a soft smile. He took a step closer and raised his hand to brush back a lock of stray hair that had fallen over her face. The sheer intimacy of the gesture made her flinch. Eric, seemingly embarrassed, stepped back and shoved his hand in his pocket.

 _Ba-dump._

She almost gasped at that sudden thud deep in her chest. What the hell was that?

She blinked hard, disoriented.

"Shall we?" Sam's voice penetrated her discombobulated thoughts. "You can use my office. Don't let the word office confuse you; it's basic'lly a broom closet with a desk. And try not to get distracted by the flushing sound from the toilets next door."

Sam led the way.

Eric turned to her and placed his hand at the small of her back before he leaned in. "Sounds cozy," he jested.

She glared at him and swatted his chest with the back of her hand. "Be nice," she warned him.

"Yes ma'am," he answered with a tip of his head before he grinned. "Ah, the things I do for love."

The customers from the nearby booths giggled while Maudette and Dawn glossy lips thinned into grim lines.

Sookie couldn't help but get all flustered. She swallowed hard, evading any form of eye-contact from any of her co-workers as she made her way back to the kitchen.

To make matters worse, her erratic heart made another disconcerting ' _ba-dump'_ as her eyes zoomed in on Eric as he trailed Sam toward the narrow hallway.

Maybe she was having cardiac arrest.

That or her heart was drumming to the tune of another man.

* * *

 **E/S**

Sookie could feel Lafayette's eyes drilling holes in her skull as she went back to whisking waffle batter, while keeping an eye on the toasts.

"So…" Lafayette purred beside her. "My baby girl has a dirty li'l secret."

"Uh-huh," she hummed, keeping her head low.

"You shoulda kept him hidden."

 _I was hiding him!_

"I'm just sayin' you shoulda Kathy Bates-ed that boy when you had the chance."

She was familiar with the reference. _Misery_ was one of Lala's favorite films, where the character of Kathy Bates went psycho and held a writer in prison in her home.

"If I is you baby girl, I wouldn't even let that man step outta my house. I'd tie him in my bed and lick gravy off his belly."

A cold finger poked at Sookie's spine as she threw her head back.

Goddamn.

She _was_ Kathy Bates. Like the psychotic fan, she had been keeping the wounded Eric to herself. Without the bondage and the feet smashing, of course. But still, she was no better. Wasn't that the reason why she didn't to bring him to the wedding in the first place? It wasn't because she would be embarrassed by the gossip his presence would trigger. It was because she didn't want to share him.

And the big question was: _why?_

Oh, shit.

She knew why. Deep down inside, she knew why she had been hiding Eric.

Why she let him stay in her house.

Why she felt that pang of pain after she found his bed empty before she left for work this morning.

Why Sylvie's name was like bile in her tongue.

Why her heart didn't make that familiar flutter when she was talking to Alcide last night.

Why the mere sight of Eric in the bar made her head swell up.

She liked him.

Sonofabitch, she was going against everything her Gran had taught her.

She was falling for a stranger.

* * *

 **E/S**

The crowd was finally dwindling and Sookie was able to slow down. She had passed the point of exhaustion. Her arm that had been whipping batter all morning was throbbing. She could feel bacon grease clinging to her pores and if it was any other day she wouldn't mind it at all. But this day was different. With the threat of bumping into Eric at any given time, she found herself being overly conscious of her appearance.

She kept checking her reflection in the toasters. Was her ponytail too high? Did she have a good dusting of flour on her face? What if she reeked of fried chicken? Dammit. Damn it all to hell. She had never been this vain. Never.

She had taken pride of being comfortable in her own skin, never measured herself against any other woman. Not even Debbie. Without her white coat Debbie was nothing - just an ordinary woman with enough money to buy herself something that resembled dignity.

The fact that vanity was never on top of her list was what separated her from her co-workers. Customers liked her for efficiency and her warm, Southern hospitality. Not because she could show a good amount of cleavage or could giggle on cue at their dated and racy jokes.

That's why Sam valued her. She was a well-oiled machine.

Not today though. Today all she could think of was the number of steps that separated her from Eric.

Was he hungry? Maybe she should bring him some chicken pot pie.

Had he taken his meds?

Was he comfortable being cooped up in Sam's dingy office?

Had Sam turned on the air conditioner? Or perhaps the ceiling fan? It was particularly hot today. Maybe she should check on him. But that might send the wrong impression. He might think she was being too clingy. Ah, fudge. She was starting to lose her shit.

She took a deep, calming breath and caught her reflection in the hood of the salamander grill.

 _Are you also thinking about me, Eric?_

"Halleluia! We are done!" Lafayette exclaimed beside her, jolting her out of her musings.

"Amen to that!" Arlene chimed in, peering in through the order window, her flaming red hair framing her clammy face. "I thought that service wouldn't end. I dunno about you two but I'm fixin' myself a tall glass of Bloody Mary."

"Make that three, hooka. And don't be stingy with the vodka, Momma needs some good juju," Lafayette called out.

"None for me, Arlene. I don't wanna be hammered for dinner service," Sookie interjected, popping a chicken pot pie in the oven.

"Ow hell no, you're drinkin' baby girl. The days of Miss Prudence is long gone," Lafayette chided, wagging his finger at her while arching his perfectly lined eyebrow.

Before Sookie could come up with a solid rebuttal, Arlene walked in the kitchen with three ice-cold glasses of Bloody Mary. That was probably the fastest delivery Arlene had ever made in all her years in Merlotte's.

Sookie took her glass with a resigned sigh, she sipped. The alcohol shot straight to her throat, leaving a burning path that almost made her gag.

"This is liquid gold, hooka," Lafayette hummed with glee as he licked the celery stem that came with his cocktail a little too provocatively.

"I don't hold back for my girls," Arlene sang as she leaned against the old industrial fridge. "Unlike some people…" she said pointedly, while pursing her lips and giving Sookie a look.

"Me?" Sookie asked, feigning innocence.

"Yes, honey, you," Arlene replied, crossing her arms under her bosom. "Are you gonna tell us where in God's green earth did ya find that mighty fine piece of meat or do we still need to get you hammered?"

Sookie winced. "He's not a piece of meat," she murmured.

"Sook's right, hooka. He ain't just a piece o' meat. He's fuckin' wagyu. The kind o' meat that just melts in your mouth," Lafayette interjected. And just in case Sookie had missed the innuendo, Lafayette put the celery stick in his mouth and started sliding it in and out.

She wasn't certain if Lafayette was really fond of that celery stick or he was merely giving her a crash course on how to give a good head. Whatever it was, it was making her uncomfortable.

Arlene made a face at Lafayette and shook her head. "What Lala is tryin' to say is, you, sweetie, got yourself a prime cut right there, which you so richly deserves by the way. Savor every bite, not everyone can afford it."

The oven timer dinged before Sookie could say anything else. Snatching a mitten off the counter, she pulled out the steaming hot pie and put it in a plate.

"Is that for wagyu?" Lafayette asked.

Sookie bobbed her head.

"Atta girl! Beef up that beefcake!" Arlene jested, smacking her in the bum. Sookie yelped a little, throwing the redhead a dirty look, before pushing her to the side to gain access to the fridge to grab a can of soda.

"Speakin' of beefcake, where the hell is Terry?" Arlene asked, trying her hard to sound as blasé as possible although the redness of her cheeks that matched her hair belied her.

Sookie and Lafayette exchanged a meaningful look. It was no secret that Arlene and Terry had been hooking up for quite some time now but neither the redhead nor the absentee cook was willing to admit it.

"He didn't show up today. He ain't pickin' up either. That's why I'm headin' down to his place to check on him. Last time he played hooky, Sam found him curled up under his bed eatin' cat food."

Terry Bellefleur, who worked as a line cook for Merlotte's for over three years now, was an Iraq war veteran who suffered from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD). Sookie had grown fond of Terry. He was soft-spoken and a true gentleman.

And most of all, he, too, was broken inside.

If Terry was indeed having one of his bad days, she wanted to be the one to help him get through it. Lafayette, bless his big heart, didn't have enough patience to deal with that kind of crazy.

"Why don't I go to Terry's instead, Lala?" Sookie offered, looking to Arlene if she had any objection. Arlene merely stared at her as she kept mum.

"You don't mind?"

Sookie shrugged and grinned. "Not at all."

"What about lover boy? You can't leave him here with Dawn and Maudette, they'll eat him alive. I saw Maudette practicin' the ol' 'flip and squeeze' earlier."

'Flip and squeeze' was Maudette's go-to trick to get a guy to notice him – or to earn a generous tip – where she would flip her hair and squeeze her chest to accentuate what the good Lord had given her.

Sookie forced herself to chuckle and ignored the doubtful looks her friends were giving her because none of it was really amusing.

"What's so damn funny?" Arlene was the one to ask.

"The only reason those gals show interest in him is because of his novelty," Sookie explained.

"Like a shiny new toy," Arlene further elaborated.

 _No one likes a broken toy,_ Sookie recalled her dream.

"Damn right," Sookie quipped, forcing her voice to sound more ecstatic, steadier.

"Well y'see baby girl, the thing with shiny toys, you don't leave it in the sandbox for others to steal."

Sookie bit her tongue.

How could she lose someone she never really had?

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric.**

 **Hello my loves. I hope you enjoy this chapter. I was supposed to post it last night but I didn't have time to do the final edits.**

 **As always, this chapter wouldn't be possible without the hard work of the awesome MsStitcher. You rock, R!**

 **Thank you for reading and commenting!**

 **Much love.**


	17. Chapter 17

For the fourth time, Eric punched the same set of numbers into the calculator and prayed for a different result. It was like throwing enough mud at the wall hoping some would stick.

Was it stupid? Yes. Redundant? Yes. Goddamn frustrating? Hell yes.

How could something so unbelievably simple confound the economist in him?

Doing the math was the easy part. The explanation behind the numbers was what baffled him the most.

He was reviewing the Cliff's notes he made earlier - double checking the figures again and again in case he missed something, perhaps another zero or a misplaced comma - when someone knocked on the door.

He exhaled deeply. It must be one of the twins again. Would it be Maudette or Dawn? Hell if he cared. He couldn't even tell them apart, hence 'the twins.' He was seriously considering locking that fucking door.

If only he wasn't waiting for a certain barmaid to pay him a visit.

The prospect of spending time with Sookie in a different environment excited him. He thought that maybe if she could see him in action, she'd finally notice him. Sure, working behind the desk with an old-school calculator and stacks of moldy manila folders might pale in comparison with the O.R. and a shiny scalpel but who the fuck cared?

 _She does._

He cursed out loud. Superman, my ass.

What was the point of working in this damned bar if he couldn't see her?

After all, _she_ was the reason he agreed to do this. Not because Sam practically begged him to. Not the glorious promise of minimum wage. Not the endless supply of greasy food or sickly sweet tea. And definitely not the twins.

Alas, all he got was the twins. They had been his welcome party, bringing him plates after plates of food and filling up his glass with sweet tea. One of the twins even offered him a beer but he declined. Sookie would give him hell for mixing alcohol with his medication.

Therapists had nothing compared to her. And the thing was… she wasn't even trying to rehabilitate him.

He almost laughed at the irony.

 _Oh, Sookie, if you know only how much power you have over me…_

If he had only met her sooner… she could have saved him from so much misery.

The rapping on the door jolted him back to the present.

"Eric?" Sam Merlotte's voice cut off his wallowing. "Mind if I come in?"

He sighed with relief. "Sure, Sam, it's open."

Sam strutted inside - hands in his pockets - and gave him a sheepish grin. "Hey bud, how's it goin'?" He pulled an old rickety chair beside the rusty file cabinet and settled across Eric.

Eric put down the spreadsheet and ran his palms across the edge of the scuffed up desk. The state of Sam's 'office' should have tipped him off that this bar was a lost cause.

"Just dropped by to see how you're doin'," Sam drawled, his gaze flickering to the mountain of food on the desk and smiled widely. "I see you've been taken care of. That's good. I don't want my accountant to starve."

Eric glanced at the plates of half-eaten dishes and smirked. "It's alarming actually. I was starting to think you're fattening me up for some kind of ritual later."

Sam chuckled. "That's just how we do things 'round here. We take care of our own." He lay his hands palms down on the desk and leaned in. "So? What's the verdict?"

Eric put the papers down and steepled his fingers. "Do you want the short version or the long version?"

Sam winced. "Which one is less painful?"

"You already know what I'm about to say?"

"Why do you think I asked for outside help?" Sam squared his shoulder and rubbed his palms together. "C'mon, out with it."

Eric hesitated for a second before he blurted out, "You're fucked."

Sam slumped in his chair as he ran his fingers through his scruffy hair. "Boy, you sure didn't beat around the bush with that one, huh?"

"I'm sorry, Sam." He didn't know why he said that, especially since he wasn't exactly the apologetic type. Even back in New York, Pam always castigated him for lacking people skills. Be more emphatic, she said. It wasn't his fault though. He was raised by an apathetic father.

Sam leaned back in chair as he took a deep breath. "Does that mean I can't get a loan?"

Eric shook his head. "The only way you can get money from the bank is if you rob it."

Sam sank even lower in his seat as he pinched the sides of his forehead. Eric felt bad for the man but the pragmatist in him refused to soft-pedal the news.

"I went through all your financial records. I've crunched the numbers over and over. There's no hiding behind the numbers, Sam. And the fact is, you're bankrupt. This bar is your only asset and it's already on its second mortgage. You owe twenty-eight thousand in back taxes; you only made five thousand last month, which isn't enough to cover your daily expenses. I'm actually baffled how you're able to make payroll."

Sam met his eyes. "Let's just say my retirement plan is currently non-existent."

"You're taking it out of your savings?" Eric asked. That explained the heavy withdrawals in his bank account.

Sam shrugged. "I don't wanna punish my staff for my mistakes."

Eric finally understood why he felt terrible for the guy. Sam Merlotte, amid all his flaws, was a genuinely kind employer.

Sam was kind to _her_ , and for that alone, Eric was grateful.

"You're a good boss, Sam," Eric felt the need to say that out loud. "But what you're doing isn't sustainable."

Sam offered no response.

Eric picked up the spreadsheet again. "You know what I can't figure out is how you can be so deep in debt when your business is this good."

Sam plucked a small memo pad from his breast pocket and handed it to Eric. "Maybe this will explain everything."

Eric took the pad and quickly perused the contents. His eyebrow arched as he flipped pages after pages.

"Open tabs?" Eric exclaimed. He did the math in his head, most of the names on the list had thousands of dollars worth of unpaid bills that ran a few years back.

Sam bobbed his head.

"Jesus, Sam, you're not running a bar here, you're hosting a fucking frat house."

"This isn't just a bar, Eric. This is a community. I know these people. They're my family."

Eric could only shake his head in disappointment. "Family don't let family go out of business because they can't pay for their own libation."

"What do you want me to do? Ask them for money like a loan shark?"

"You can start by saying no. Let's face it, this is a bar not a soup kitchen. People won't die if you don't serve them booze. You don't need more customers, what you need is _paying_ customers."

Sam's shoulders drooped in defeat. "Okay, okay. No more running tabs. What else can I do to save this dump?"

Admitting it was a dump was a good way to start, Eric thought to himself. He straightened up and went down to business.

"You have to tell your staff. They need to get a bead on the situation. Give them time to weigh in their options."

"They'll walk out on me."

"If they value you as much as you value them, they won't. Besides, this is the best time for you to cull the herd and find out once and for all who your real allies are."

Sam inhaled deeply, seemingly perturbed with the idea of coming clean.

 _Hop on the bandwagon, my friend,_ Eric thought, similarly dreading 'the talk' he'd be having with Sookie tonight.

"Okay, next," Sam said after a while.

"Start collecting debt."

"I knew you'd say that."

"It's the only way to keep this ship afloat. Obviously some of your regulars will stop coming once you close their tabs. That won't help you if you want to stay liquid in this kind of economy. I'm not implying that you go door-to-door and break knee caps here. Just ask for maybe a portion of what they owe you. It won't hurt. A little goes a long way."

"I don't think I can do that, Eric. People 'round here aren't as liquid as your Yankee clients. Why do you reckon they keep comin' here?"

Eric steepled his fingers once more as he gave Sam his bad-news-stare. "Then I guess you're left with door number two."

"What's behind door number two?" Sam asked nervously.

"You have to shut this down," Eric replied in a clinical tone.

"Shit," Sam drawled.

"You barely have enough money left to make payroll this month. The last cheques you issued to your vendors are no good. Basically, you have terrible credit. There's no other choice, Sam. It's best if you cut your losses now. Sell whatever you can sell, pay your loans and find an actual paying job."

"What if I find a partner?"

Eric hadn't even considered that option. No entrepreneur in his right mind would go anywhere near this sinkhole. Sam might be a good friend but he would be a lousy business partner. He was just too damn nice.

"Do you know anyone in the market for a bar and grill?"

"I know one. Have you heard of Big Al from Shreveport?"

 _Oh fuck no.  
_

"You mean the douchebag with the pencil moustache who has the hots for Sookie?"

Sam laughed. "Yup, that's the one. And I'm guessing his obsession with your girlfriend is the main reason he wants to get into business with me. Al's been tryin' to woo her ever since she came back from college."

Eric grimaced. The thought of Big Al wooing Sookie was giving him acid reflux.

"So, what do you reckon?" Sam asked when he offered no response.

"Have you ever heard of the expression: If you lie down with the devil, you'll wake up in hell?"

Sam exhaled through his nose. "You're right. I can't let Big Al in Bon Temps. He'll bastardize this place."

Eric couldn't agree more.

"Let me keep working on this. Who knows, I may be able to find a less evasive solution to your dilemma," Eric said to shorten the awkward pause.

Sam's face lit up. "You'll do that for me?"

Actually, Eric would do it for Sookie but seeing how thrilled Sam was, he decided not to burst the man's little bubble.

"Sure. That's why I'm here, right?"

Sam grinned, the movement eased the tension around his jaw. "Thank you, Eric." He stood up, seized Eric's hand and squeezed it. "I'll leave you to it then."

Eric inhaled deeply and braced himself for some serious work. He needed a miracle to save this dump. Anything to take Big Al out of the equation.

Sam was making his way to the door when he whipped his head toward Eric and asked, "How did you know Big Al?"

Eric's lips curled. "My fist and his nose has a bit of a history."

"That was you?" Sam gasped. "The cocky tourist who gave Big Al a nose job last week?"

"You've heard about it?"

"The entire state of Louisiana heard about it. You're the only person who made Satan bleed. You're a local hero."

"Well Sookie didn't find it quite heroic," Eric muttered, trying hard to hide the frustration in his tone.

"Really?" Sam appeared genuinely interested as he slid back to his seat. "Did she say why?"

"She's under the impression that Big Al will somehow take his anger out on Jason."

Sam nodded, scratching his beard. "Makes sense. Sookie can be quite defensive when it comes to Jason especially after the incident."

Ah, the infamous 'incident'.

Eric was already racking his brain on how to subtly inquire about it when Sam gave him a pointed look.

"Did you know how Jason lost his leg?" Sam inquired, saving Eric the trouble.

Eric shrugged, trying to be as nonchalant as possible. "Jason was pretty vague about it. I assumed he didn't want to relive the whole ordeal. And I didn't feel comfortable asking Sookie since our relationship is still in its early stages."

Sam looked convinced as he bobbed his head. He plopped back in his chair and resumed rubbing his chin.

"Don't feel bad, bubba. The Stackhouses ain't famous for airing their dirty laundry. To be honest, I didn't know the whole story either on account of I wasn't originally from Bon Temps."

Eric wasn't expecting that. He had assumed everyone in Bon Temps was here from cradle to grave. He couldn't imagine why people would actually choose to live here.

"Where're you from?"

"Tennessee. Born and raised. When my mama passed on, my brother and I sold what's left to our name and went our separate ways. My li'l brother Tommy went to Nashville and married a fine young singer while I bought a trailer and drove from town to town to immerse myself in the culture. It was fun for a while but it wasn't as fulfilling as I thought. And then I found Bon Temps and Bon Temps found me. Now here I am, ten years later, still living in my beat-up trailer with nothing to my name."

Eric regarded Sam for a long time, wondering if he was sent here from the future to warn Eric of what his life would be like if he decided to stay in Bon Temps. It was a disturbing thought, one he didn't want to dwell on much longer.

"So what you're saying is, you're as clueless as me," Eric pointed out.

"Oh, but I've heard stories," Sam teased.

Eric arched an eyebrow to egg him on. He could tell Sam was a textbook people pleaser, which made him more pliable to manipulation.

Sam became pensive for a moment then with a shrug, he gave in. "Tara said it was a break-in," Sam began.

"Tara?"

"Sook's best friend. She works here too but today's her day off. Those two are thick as thieves but Tara's recollection of the events could be a bit hazy on account of she was dealin' with some family issues back then too."

"Oh." Eric paused and waited as patiently as he could. Sam was deviating and it took everything in Eric not to blurt out, ' _one depressing story at a time please_.'

Finally, Sam picked up where he left off. "Old lady Adele was in the hospital for a hip replacement when the siblings were attacked. Sookie was able to run to the Fortenberrys but Jason wasn't so lucky."

"Did they catch the assailant?"

Sam shook his head. "The bastard got away. Tara said it was a big guy, or at least that's what they heard. The siblings were both too shocked to give a detailed description. Their grandma shipped Sookie and her brother off to New Orleans to stay with their mama's cousin for a while. When the siblings returned they were tight-lipped, didn't even wanna talk about it anymore."

Eric finally understood Sookie's guilt. She felt as though she had abandoned her brother.

What bothered Eric though was the fact that Sookie felt the need to lie to him when she said it was a hunting incident.

' _He was protectin' me from an animal.'_

Eric almost cursed out loud as comprehension washed over him like a tidal wave. The images flooded his mind.

A young Sookie, barely in her teens, sleeping peacefully in bed, oblivious to the sound of danger approaching. Eric wondered if she had seen the assailant, felt his presence before he could do anything to her.

Sookie wasn't lying when she said there was a hunt. She just omitted the part where she was the one being hunted.

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric.**

 **Hello loves! I'm still fangirl dancing over the new Tarzan trailer. Oh, the abs!**

 **Anywho, sorry if there's no S/E interaction here, I hope the little back story will make up for the lack of action.**

 **MsStitcher, thank you for your awesomeness! Loving the yellow blocks! All mistakes are mine because I'm fickle and I can't be left alone.**

 **Thank you for reading and leaving thoughtful reviews! Love, love, love y'all!**


	18. Chapter 18

Sookie didn't even need to knock on the door to Sam's office. Maudette already had it propped wide open by leaning against it. Sookie could see Eric sitting behind Sam's desk, mostly obscured by the pile of paper folders in front of him.

"So you're an accountant," Maudette purred, a hand on her waist.

"Technically, I'm an investment banker."

"What's the diff'rence?"

"I get wealthier clients."

"Sounds exciting," Maudette giggled as she flipped her hair over her shoulder.

Sookie resisted the desire to yank her co-worker by her tiny waist or her perky pony tail. Shameless bitch.

"Not really. You gotta have the stomach for it. Rich people tend to have egos that match their bank accounts."

"How about your ego, Eric?" Maudette asked, straightening her stance. "How _big_ is it?"

Eric looked up and leaned back against his chair. "Well, you'll have to ask Sookie that. She's standing right behind you."

Maudette made a quick turn and flinched when she spotted her.

"Didn't see you there, Sook," the brunette stammered. "I was just keepin' Eric company."

"Why, that's mighty sweet of you, Maudette," Sookie hummed as she swept past her co-worker and stepped inside the tiny office, putting down the plate of chicken pot pie on the desk. "Please don't let me interrupt you then. I just dropped by to see if Eric wants -"

The word 'lunch' got stuck in her throat as her gaze fell on top of the drawer beside the desk. Behind the pile of folders were platters of food – waffles, eggs, fried chicken, two kinds of sausages, almost everything on their menu was right there. A feast fit for kings.

It made her offering seemed puny and laughable.

"Oh wow, that's _a lot_ ," Sookie commented out loud.

"Maudette and Dawn brought them," Eric said, peeling himself off his chair.

"I see," Sookie hummed.

"We just want him to feel welcomed is all," Maudette clarified. "Lordy, I just realized I haven't had lunch yet," she giggled as she flipped her hair. "I best get movin'. It's been nice chattin' with you Eric."

Eric barely looked at the brunette as he crossed over to Sookie. Maudette hadn't even left the room yet when Eric pulled Sookie flush against him and wrapped his arms around her shoulder.

Sookie stiffened.

If it were any other person she would have been alarmed at the sudden invasion of her personal space. The last guy who tried to hug her without her permission had received a good kick in the nuts.

This felt different though. As awkward as it was, it didn't terrify her - didn't invoke memories of dark past that was better left unsaid.

It was somehow comforting. And ironically, that made her tense even more.

She could hear the steady pounding of his heart in his chest.

What was happening? Eric had never been this _close_ to her. Close enough that she could smell the faint scent of his anti-bacterial bar soap and miserably thought it was unfair for him to smell this good at this kind of weather. She wanted to close her eyes and relish the contact but she was afraid she might give herself away by inhaling too deeply.

"Eric? Is everythin' okay?"

"Mmm hmm," he hummed without giving an inch. "I'm just glad you're here."

She finally pushed him away just so she could see his expression. "Why?"

"Because…"

She stared at his somber blue eyes. The muscles around his jaw bunched as he returned her gaze. He opened his mouth and shut it again. For a fleeting moment she saw something crossed his features but it was gone before she could decipher it.

He shook his head as he stepped back, dragging his fingers through his short blonde hair. "What took you so long? I was beginning to wonder when you're gonna pay me a visit."

She drew up short, her walls coming back up again. "Who needs me when you got pretty girls droppin' by every now and then?"

" _I_ need you."

Sookie could feel her face growing hotter, her heart so big in her chest. She had to remind herself that need wasn't love and that she shouldn't let words like that cloud her judgment.

"Are you okay? You're all flustered," Eric asked, inching closer again. He wasn't teasing her, though. He sounded genuinely concerned.

She caught a whiff of his scent again and realized if she could smell him then he could smell her too.

 _Oh God, why do I have to be in the kitchen today?_

"I'm alright." She shrugged, taking a step back to put some distance between them. "Must be the Bloody Mary."

His eyes widened, his lips curling into that familiar smirk. "You're drinking? At this hour?"

She tilted her head up defiantly. "Don't you judge me. You're the one flirting with my friends when you know damn well I'm just in the next room."

"For the record," he wagged his finger at her. "I'm not flirting with any of them. I may be a jackass but I'm not that kind of a jackass."

She swallowed hard, beads of sweat lining the back of her neck. She hung her head, looking properly chastised.

"I'm sorry," she said weakly, running out intelligible comebacks. "I'm just…"

"Jealous perhaps?"

The irony of their situation wasn't lost on her. It was like a rerun of last night's run-in with Alcide and she had to admit, watching someone put the moves on her 'supposed' boyfriend was like taking a sucker punch.

Unlike Eric, though, she wasn't woman enough to make a full confession.

"I'm not jealous. I don't get jealous," she refuted, hoping the crack in her voice wouldn't give her away.

"Of course not," he hushed with a smirk, "you just eat a whole pie." His eyes darted down to the plate she belatedly realized was still in her hands.

Sookie gritted her teeth. They really need basic cable. Something to keep the boys from gossiping about her.

She thrust it to him. "It's not for me. It's for you."

He gaped at her, his eyes lighting up. "Really?"

"Sam asked me to bring you lunch," she lied. She didn't want Eric to think she actually cared about his well-being.

His shoulders sagged. "Oh. Sam." He seemed disappointed.

"Yeah. Sam," she echoed unapologetically.

Eric took her offering and set it beside the other plates. "What time's your lunch break?"

"Huh?" she asked pathetically.

"Maybe we can lunch together. My treat." He smiled, pointing his chin toward the abundant spread on top of the desk.

She couldn't help but smile back. It sounded so tempting but she didn't trust herself not act like a complete idiot right now. "Can't. I have to go and check on our cook."

"Oh." He nodded. "I understand. Next time then."

"Sure, next time." She gave him a tiny smile. "For what it's worth, I'm glad you're here too."

He wiggled his brow. "Is that so?"

She wanted to flash him a girlish grin, instead she held herself back. "We could really use your help. Lord knows Sam needs a reality check."

He grew serious again. "So you know the bar's in trouble?"

"I work front of the house, Eric. I know how much money is coming in. Sam's heart may be in the right place but it ain't doin' him any good."

"Sam's being stubborn about the loans. If he's not willing to cut the cord with his non-paying patrons, I don't think there's anything more I can do.

Sookie smiled sadly. "Sam's biggest asset is also his liability. He's way too kind. I really shouldn't fault him for that after everything he did for me."

"What do you mean?"

Sookie sighed. "After Gran's first cardiac arrest, she had to undergo bypass surgery. It nearly depleted our savings. Jason had dropped out of college and chose to take automotive classes instead of finishin' his engineering course. I was already working part-time at Merlotte's then. I was going to use my college fund to help Jason with the hospital bills but Sam wouldn't let me. He said that this town needs more doctors. He lent me the money for Gran's surgery, no interest. I managed to cover it by workin' here during school breaks. I promised Sam I'll keep working here until I get my white coat."

"That explains why a biology major still works for tips."

She bobbed her head. "Sam wanted me to go after my dream. The least I could do is to make sure he wouldn't lose his. Bon Temps is a small town, Eric. It's lucky we get to dream at all."

Eric surprised her when he cupped her cheek. "You're too big for this place," he said with the sincerity that made her heart skip a beat. He really should stop doing that, especially when heart problems ran in her family.

" _You're_ too big for this place," she said with a grin. "Can you even stretch your legs under that desk?"

He chuckled then rolled his eyes. "God, no. I feel like I walked in a Hobbit's house."

"You're a Tolkien fan too?" she asked giddily.

"My brother forced me to plow my way through the saga."

"I like your brother already."

"I bet he'd love you too."

She almost gasped at the use of the L-word followed by 'too' but she was far too vigilant to let it show. Semantics, she reminded herself. She shouldn't put too much stock in the words of someone as noncommittal as Eric.

"I better go," she said after a few awkward seconds. "I'm workin' until closing. Will you still be here then?"

"Of course," he said without thinking. "It's bring-your-boyfriend-to-work day, remember. You can't go home without me."

She bit the insides of her cheeks to stifle her grin. "Okay, guess I'll see you later."

"Later, lover."

She shook her head in jest. The pet name was actually growing on her.

She spun on her heel when she suddenly remembered something. "Eric," she called out, wringing her hands together. "I want to apologize for last night. I never should've called you a jerk."

Eric, who was circling back behind the desk, shrugged offhandedly. "It was called for."

"No, it wasn't," she countered, marching in front of the table. "You trusted me enough to confide in me and I went and made it all about me. I let my own frustrations get in my head and I'm sorry."

He leaned in and grabbed both her hands. "Sookie, I am a jerk and I need to hear it. I haven't been fair to Sylvie. To myself. And you're absolutely right, I need to get my priorities in order."

Sookie's gaze fell to their clasped hands. If she was so right then how come this felt so wrong?

"Since we're being honest," Eric added as he traced small circles around her knuckles with his thumbs, his expression turning somber. "There's something I need to tell you."

She held her breath as she locked eyes with him. She didn't have to be a telepath to know what was on his mind. The look on his face said it all: _he was leaving_. He was going back to New York to get his life in order. To get his life back.

He was leaving her.

She broke eye-contact first, prying her hands out of his grasp.

"Whatever it is, it has to wait. I really need to go," she blurted out.

She was out of Sam's office before Eric could get another word out. She made a mad dash to the bathroom and locked the door behind her. She staggered toward one of the sinks and gripped the cold, porcelain edge.

She looked up and saw her reflection staring back at her.

"What the fuck is wrong with you, Sookie?" she spat. "You know he's leaving. You want him to leave. You're the dumbass who keeps pushing him to go after his ex. Congratulations, dumbass, wish granted."

 _Nothing says crazy than insulting yourself in the mirror._

She let out an audible groan as she flipped the tap on and splashed cold water in her face. It didn't do any good, she still felt pretty stupid.

 _Get your shit together, Sookie. You're better than this._

She wasn't. She was scared. That's why she ran. Because she thought that if he couldn't say goodbye then he wouldn't be able to leave. And if she could hold off his goodbyes even for just a day, then maybe, just maybe, he'd change his mind.

* * *

 **E/S**

Donning a smile as fake as Dawn's tits, Sookie went back to the kitchen. Her face was freshly powdered, her uniform smooth and tidy and not a strand of hair out of place. She was perfect. At least on the outside.

Lafayette, who was supposed to prepare the _mise en place_ for the dinner service, was missing. Instead there was Arlene, a set of earphones tucked beneath her flaming red hair, humming along to whatever music was playing on her iPod. Arlene didn't even hear Sookie come in as she sliced tomatoes and onions.

"Arlene."

Arlene literally jumped, wielding a paring knife. "Jesus, Sook! You scared me half to death."

Sookie also leapt back, her eyes following the sharp object Arlene was wielding. "Easy there tiger. Why're you doin' the prep? Where's Lala?"

Arlene went back to her previous task. "He went for a grocery run. We're runnin' low on patties and chicken wings."

"But we just had a delivery yesterday? Terry probably stocked them in the walk-in."

"Terry broke the walk-in last night. He was supposed to come in early today to fix it but he didn't show up. Which reminds me, aren't you s'pposed to go to Terry's?"

"I'm actually on my way out. I just dropped by to ask if you guys need anythin' else in town."

"We're all good here, sweetie. Just go and get our Terry. I'm worried about him. I'd go there myself but we're not really on the up and up right now."

Sookie bit her tongue. She wanted to lend Arlene an ear but after her little burst of panic attack in the bathroom, she wasn't sure she was the right person for the job.

With a soft pat on Arlene's shoulder, Sookie left the kitchen. She knew the front doors were locked. They would remain close until the start of dinner at six, so she made her way to the back door. She was treading the narrow hallway when she heard the familiar chime of Dawn's high-pitched giggle. It was coming from Eric's – Sam's – office and it made her gut churn. She rolled her eyes. She knew Dawn and Maudette could be promiscuous but she never thought they would stoop this low. And their shamelessness was reducing her to a jealous wreck.

Every cell in her body was buzzing, urging her to burst through the door and rip out Dawn's hair extensions. That would teach her not to go after her man.

 _Her_ man?

She caught herself quickly. Eric wasn't hers. Not by a long shot.

In a sick, twisted way she thought, maybe if Eric wouldn't stay for her, maybe he'd stay for one of those sluts.

God, she was hopeless.

Before she could lose her marbles completely, she turned around and went back to the kitchen. She would use another entrance – or in this case, another exit – to get the hell out of this bar.

Arlene was still too preoccupied singing-along with Shania to notice her and she managed to slip at the back without getting noticed. Behind the towering wall made up of cases of beer and soda was a stock room where they kept the walk-in freezer and most of the stuff they rarely use. There was a door that could only be opened and locked from inside, which was meant for heavy deliveries.

She was on her way out when she decided to check the walk-in freezer. Perhaps it wasn't as bad as they thought. Maybe she could MacGyver the shit out of it. One less thing to worry about for Terry and Sam.

Examining the metal handle, she tried to rattle it. Alas, it wouldn't budge. Propping her foot against the metal door, she yanked the lever again. She heard a creak which she took as a good sign.

She released the handle and went to search the tiny room for anything that she could use as lubricant. She found an empty can of vegetable oil. Inserting two fingers through the round hole - careful not to cut herself with the sharp metal sheet - she was able to smear the inside of the can. She dabbed her fingers around the spot where the handle was attached and tried jiggling it again.

With a little more effort, the bar finally shifted. She twisted the handle down until she heard a click, the telltale sound of the lock unhinging from its cradle.

She pulled the heavy metal door and a cool blast of air escaped in an instant. That wasn't supposed to happen.

Curious, she yanked the door open a little wider letting out more frosty mist. Ice had built up around the edge of the door making it hard for her to get the door to open all the way through so she decided to step inside, keeping a strong grip on the handle bar.

She shivered as the cold air bit every exposed skin of her body. Her hand was still slicked with oil and she was starting to lose her grasp. Using her foot as a doorstop, she scanned the inside of the walk-in and discovered that the row of thick plastic strips which served as a curtain that was supposed to trap the cold air inside the freezer was missing.

Goosebumps prickled the length of her arms and legs and she realized her thin Southern blood was no match for the sub-zero temperature. She had to get out of there.

She moved her foot out of the jamb so that she could push the metal with her shoulder while clutching on the handle. Then just as she was about to slip out, a loud clanging sound from behind the metal shelf startled her. She jumped back. Her hand slipped off the latch and the freezer entry caved in. The moisture-proof lighting at the ceiling shut off automatically as the room got sealed.

 _Shit!_

She was cold _and_ blind.

She tried to ram her shoulder against the thick metal door but it refused to give way. She dug for her mobile phone inside her purse and dialed Merlotte's number. Maybe Arlene or Sam or… Eric could get her out of this freezing hell.

Funny, she thought, hell had actually frozen over.

Damn. She couldn't get through. She checked for cell signal. Not a single bar. She screamed at her phone, fighting the overwhelming desire to smash it against the wall.

Then she remembered the safety alarm on the wall. She used the screen light to locate the security bell near the door jamb and yanked the lever. She couldn't hear anything. It was supposed to ring - shriek like a fucking banshee - to let the people in the restaurant know that someone was trapped inside this big cooling box.

"Fuck!"

She went back to give the latch another try when she heard another clang. She whipped her phone around and yelled, "Hello?" stupidly.

Gingerly, she steered toward the back of the shelf. And that's when she saw him, Terry, clad in thick plastic strips, trying to pull himself off the floor by grasping at the frame of the metal shelf for support.

Shock washed over her as she dashed to his side.

"Oh my God, Terry!"

She propped her phone on top of one of the wire racks and helped him up. At 5-foot-11, Terry wasn't exceptionally big but he wasn't small fry either, which made lifting him much more difficult.

The war veteran looked so feeble. He couldn't even straighten his legs. He was like a burrito covered in strips of plastic which were kept intact by his belt wrapped around his middle. She leaned him against the shelf and cupped his face.

"Sook?"

"The one and only," she smiled.

"We're fucked," he hushed, his speech a little slurred as his teeth chattered. Dear Lord, how long had he been stuck in here?

"I was on my way to check on you. Guess I didn't have to go far to find you."

"You n-need p-plastic… t-to ke-heep he-heat," he stuttered. He stuck out his arm to work on his belt and she realized what he wanted to do.

"No." She seized his hand. "Keep it on. You've been here much longer than me. I'll be fine, I swear."

Terry didn't argue as his arm retreated back to safety of his insulated suit. Either he believed her or he was too weak to argue.

"Have you tried disablin' the coolin' fan?" she asked him, looking up at the humming machine above the ceiling.

He shook his head. "Can't… do that. To-too close… to the condenser. Freon might l-leak."

She bobbed her head in agreement. Releasing poisonous gas might kill them faster than hypothermia. She picked up her phone and tried making a call again. This time she dialed Eric's number. No luck.

"C-Can't believe… I sss-survived two tours… to-to Iraq only to d-die in a f-fucking freezer."

"Don't say that," Sookie chastised. "You're not gonna die here. No one is. Someone will come lookin' for us soon."

Thankfully, Terry couldn't see her cross her fingers under the dimness of the room.

She spotted the flattened cardboard box on the floor. Terry must have used it to keep the coldness of the metal floor from seeping through his suit. She scoured the shelves for more cardboard boxes but couldn't find any more. There were only thin sheets of plastics encasing the frozen patties. She tried clawing at it but they were clinging stubbornly to the meat.

Terry had given up keeping himself horizontal as he slid back down to the cardboard. He squeezed himself against the wall to make room for her.

The cold was getting harder to ignore.

She slumped next to him pulling her knees to her chest, rubbing her hands against her almost bare shoulders. She wished she had her cardigan with her – although a hoodie would do a better job. She wished she was wearing long pants instead of these damned denim shorts. She wished she hadn't fiddled with the freezer by herself. She wished she had a better phone – a cheap walkie talkie would have been more efficient.

And lastly, she wished for Superman. This time, she wasn't thinking of Alcide.

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric or True Blood.**

 **Hello doves! Hope y'all are having a nice Easter holiday. Sorry I wasn't able to write back to all your precious comments. I wanted to get this out as soon as possible which would not be possible if it weren't for the tireless efforts of my brilliant beta, MsStitcher. Here's looking at you, R!**

 **Love, love, love! Thank you for feeding the muse with your thoughtful reviews!**

 **P.S. All mistakes are mine. I had two glasses of wine when I did the final edit.**


	19. Chapter 19

_Where are you Sookie?_

Eric dragged his fingers through his hair as he stared at the clock on the wall, willing its hands to move faster. It had been hours since he had seen her and having been confined in Sam's office had made it seem longer.

Dinner service had started over an hour ago. He could hear commotion through the thin walls - harried footsteps, bells dinging almost every minute, high-pitched howls from irate customers, peppered by a few nasty words every now and then. He didn't have to sneak a peek to tell it was a warzone outside.

Even the obnoxious twins had stopped dropping by every ten minutes since the dinner crowd came in droves, which gave him enough time to focus on the impossible task of saving a sinking ship.

He was digging into the piles of folders when his phone shuddered in his pocket. He pulled it out and scanned the number on the screen. Lo and behold, it was Pam. Again. She had been calling him every couple of hours since this morning. Recalling how their last conversation ended, he wasn't thrilled on picking up where they left off. If he wanted to know what Sylvie was up to, he'd call her himself. And right now, his former fiancee was the last thing on his mind.

With a slight head shake, he shoved the mobile phone back in his pocket. He was flipping through Sam's little black book of miserly drunkards when the door flew wide open. For a split second there he thought it would be Sookie.

No such luck.

Instead it was an African-American woman in a white tank top and ripped jeans.

"Sam! We're gettin' slammed out the-" The woman stopped mid-sentence as she locked in on him. "You're not Sam."

 _And you're not Sookie, so I guess we both lost_ , was what he wanted to say. Instead he shrugged and settled for, "Sorry Sam's not here."

"And who the hell are you?"

The old Eric would not let anyone address him with such blatant disrespect. The new and improved Eric, who had been knocked down from his high horse once or twice in the past few days, had learned that respect shouldn't come with his name. People should respect him because he deserved it and not because he demanded it. That it should be earned through kindness and patience.

Lots and lots of patience.

With a forced smile he replied, "I'm the accountant. Sam hired me this morning."

The brazen newcomer folded her arms across her chest. "You don't look like an accountant," she murmured as she began appraising him.

"I'd take that as a compliment," he quipped, resuming his previous task while ignoring the fact that the woman was virtually stripping him naked with her eyes.

"I'm Tara," the woman said after a while. "You?"

His gaze shot up. Tara. Sookie's best friend. Eric couldn't help but smirk. Thank God, he didn't snap at her.

"Nice to meet you, Tara." He stuck out his hand. Tara looked at it with confusion. There was a three-second delay before she took it and gave it a light squeeze. She probably wasn't used to such formal gesture. "My name's Eric. I'm Sookie's friend."

Tara's eyes almost bulged out of their sockets. "Eric?" she gasped. " _The_ Eric who's been livin' with Sook?"

His smirk curved into a toothy grin as he nodded. "Guilty as charged."

Tara pursed her lips as she gave him another round of assessment. "Hot damn," was her official conclusion.

Her remarks, however flattering, caught him slightly off guard.

"I take it Sookie had mentioned me," he started his fishing expedition.

"Oh nonono." Tara wagged her finger at him. "I know that tone. And let me tell you buddy, I am done playin' the role of the funny sidekick. You wanna know somethin', you go straight to the source."

He got shot down before he could even cast his hook. "Duly noted," he said, a little deflated.

"What, that's it? You're givin' up? You won't even try to bribe me like the others?"

"There are others?" he asked stupidly.

"What do you think?" she laughed. "Have you seen my girl? They don't make 'em like her anymore. She's like a fuckin' fairy. Just be glad you only have to deal with Jason because if -"

The rapping on the door halted Tara's speech.

Sam didn't wait for Eric's verbal permission before he waltzed in the room.

"Eric, good news!" Sam exclaimed as he stepped in. He immediately zoomed in on Tara. Confused, he asked, "Tara? What're you doin' here? Aren't you off today?"

Tara slid Sam a look. "I was. Until Lafayette called me in and asked for reinforcement."

"Oh. I see," Sam murmured. "Then shouldn't you be out there tendin' the bar?"

"Not until I hear the good news you've been yappin' about."

Eric was taken aback by Tara's audacious tone but decided to let it slide. If Sam was okay being pushed around by his staff then who was he to question it. Besides, he'd fair better to be on Tara's good side.

"Right, right." Sam bobbed his head before he turned to Eric. "I found a client! Well, technic'lly the client came to me. Someone asked us to cater a big fundraiser two weeks from today. I reckon that'll be enough to tide us over for at least a month."

Eric leaned back in his chair. "That depends," he said. "How big is it?"

"Oh, believe me, it's huge. Have you heard of Doctors Without Borders?"

 _Give me a fucking break._

Then, right on cue, the door swung open as the man of steel walked in to save the fucking day.

"Here he is, the man of the hour," Sam exalted, tipping his head to the hulking figure. "Eric, I'd like you to meet Doctor Alcide Herveaux."

"Holy shit," Tara whisper-hissed beside him. _Thank you, Tara. My thoughts exactly._

"Eric," Alcide grumbled, nudging his chin to him.

"Alcide."

"You two know each other?" Sam asked, his head oscillating between Eric and Alcide.

"Stop bein' stupid Sam. Of course they know each other," Tara gritted out. "Now quit gapin' like a fool and whip out your phone so we can take a video."

Alcide flashed Tara a grudging smile. "Eric and I have met on several occasions. He's my patient."

"Was," Eric corrected the doctor.

"Yes, sorry. He _was_ my patient. Sookie and Jason brought him in after he was stabbed by a mugger in Shreveport on his first night in town," Alcide explained in the condescending tone that made Eric gnash his teeth. "So much for a welcoming party, huh, Eric? Seemed almost ominous, if you ask me."

"Oh I don't know. It kinda worked out for me actually. Sookie had never been so attentive. So…" he licked his lips slowly, "…nurturing." He ended his rebuttal with sly grin that earned him a snicker from Tara.

Alcide's face darkened as he glared at Tara before zeroing back on Eric. He was quick to gain his composure back though as he forced a smile.

"I'm glad you think so. At least you'll have a funny anecdote to tell your friends when you go back home."

He steepled his fingers in front of him. "Careful, Doc. You're beginning to sound as though you don't want me around anymore."

"C'mon Eric. Let's face it, Louisiana's fine and all but it's nothin' compared to the big city. Sooner or later you'll have to go back to New York. This is just a pit stop for you."

Tara and Sam gasped at Alcide's brash remark. Eric, however, managed to keep his cool.

"I'm confused. Who are you trying to insult here, Doc? Me or Sookie?"

Alcide flinched but was able to hold his ground as he thinned his lips. Whether it was sheer arrogance or pride, Eric couldn't tell. Nor did he care.

"You're not right for her," Alcide spat.

Eric couldn't help but smirk. The frustration in Alcide's tone was hard to miss.

"Is that your expert opinion, Doc? Because I'd like to get a second one," Eric pressed on.

Alcide's expression hardened.

"Your big city wit won't get you far."

"Still a lot further than you."

Their captive audience had faded into the background as Eric and Alcide turned Sam's office into a urinal. Eric didn't mind. He could do this all night. Alcide didn't even stand a chance.

The doctor went mum as he straightened his spine and crossed his arms over his chest defensively.

"You know what, you're right," Alcide murmured after a while. "Enjoy your day in the sun, Eric. I can just wait you out. Whether you like it or not, the fact is, this is my home. _Our_ home. You don't belong here."

"Is that why you kept treating Sookie like a second-class citizen? Because you knew that when things go south you'd always have someone to fall back on _back home_ ," Eric volleyed back as he got off his chair and began circling around the desk to go toe to toe with the doctor.

Alcide crossed his arms and tipped his head, assuming a defensive stance. Eric, who stood one inch shorter than his rival, merely scoffed as he tilted his head.

"Tell me Alcide, did it piss you off when you realized she wasn't going to wait for you forever?"

For the first time that night, Alcide had no words. No zinger to sling back. Eric had found Superman's kryptonite.

Tara had chosen that exact moment to intervene.

"Boys, boys," Tara refereed, stepping forward, her arm slicing the proverbial tension in the air. "As much as I'm lovin' this pissin' match, may I suggest we hit pause for a bit. 'Cuz seriously what good is a dick war if Sookie ain't here to enjoy it?"

"I'll call her," Sam volunteered quickly before dashing outside, away from the histrionics.

Tara remained planted on her spot, her tiny form awkwardly wedged between the two giants, while Eric and Alcide kept eyeing each other with thinly veiled animosity. No one moved an inch, afraid to make a ripple in a still pond.

Luckily for all of them, Sam was able to return shortly.

Alone.

"Where's Sook?" Tara inquired when Sam walked in, seemingly baffled.

"I can't find her."

* * *

 **E/S**

" _Hi, it's Sookie. Y'all know what to do."_

Eric ended the call before he could hear the high-pitched beep.

"Voicemail again?" Tara asked him for the fifth time tonight.

He answered with a terse nod as he resumed pacing small circles around Sam's crowded office.

Tara, Sam and Alcide were all huddled by the desk, phones to their ears as they launched a call brigade, phoning almost everyone on their contact list who might have seen either Sookie or the absentee cook.

Meanwhile, Arlene, the redhead barmaid, had offered to go to the cook's house.

In half an hour, the trio had managed to ring Andy the Sheriff, who also happened to be the cook's cousin and all the nearby hospitals. No sign of either Sookie or Terry. Tara had taken the liberty of calling Jason, who instantly went ballistic when he heard Sookie hadn't been seen or heard from in hours.

"Got a text from Arlene," Sam announced loudly. "' _Ter's truck is here but his house looks empty. Will check inside, text soon. Let me know if they show up_ ,'" Sam read the message.

"I'll try Portia, maybe she's with Terry," Sam said. Eric didn't have a clue who Portia was and he wasn't particularly curious either. He could only wish there was something else he could do.

"This doesn't feel right. Terry, I understand, but Sookie…" Tara let her words hung. "She'd never flake on us like this. She'd call Jason at least. She knows how paranoid her brother is."

"Sam?" One of the twins ducked inside. "Mind if I borrow Tara?"

Sam looked at Tara in response.

Tara shook her head and turned to the doorway. "I'm busy Dawn."

"Well so are we!" Dawn pealed, stepping inside, hands on her hips. "I hate to state the obvious here but we're down two waitresses and a cook. The kitchen's backed up and no one's mannin' the bar. Customers are startin' to walk out Sam."

"Let them walk out!" Sam lobbed back, which earned him an appreciative nod from Tara.

"Sam Merlotte! Are you bein' serious?" Dawn refused to back down. "We're losin' business."

"To hell with it! We're losin' our people," Sam spat.

Dawn's gaze went to Eric nervously as she seemed to contemplate her next words. "I don't mean to sound insensitive," she drawled as she gingerly tucked her hair behind her ears. "But aren't we jumpin' the gun here a li'l too quickly? They haven't been gone for a day for Pete's sake. For all we know, Terry's havin' one of his episodes with Sook. We all know those two can be a little…"

"A little what?" Eric snapped at Dawn.

Dawn drew up short, taking few steps away from him.

"Yeah, Dawn. A little what?" Tara seconded.

Dawn fidgeted as she slowly retreated toward the exit.

"Crazy? Is that what you wanna say?" Tara badgered the cowering the brunette.

"I'm just sayin'…" Dawn mumbled.

"Get the hell out of my sight bitch before I knock your teeth in," Tara spat in a low menacing tone.

Sam was out of his seat in an instant. Even Alcide was looking wary as he regarded both women. Eric, on the other hand, was busy giving Dawn a hard stare.

"You should leave, Dawn," Sam interceded, wedging himself between his staff. "And tell Lafayette to shut down the kitchen. I'm done givin' away free meals."

Dawn opened her mouth then shut it again before she shook her head vigorously and left.

What Tara did next caught Eric and Alcide by surprise. She grabbed Sam's face and kissed him long and hard.

That explained their unusual relationship.

The kiss was cut short when Sam's phone rang. It was Arlene again. She had found Terry's spare key. No one was home as she initially suspected. She had also scanned the surrounding area and found nothing. She offered to stay there for a while in case Terry or Sookie showed up, which they all agreed was the best idea.

Eric picked up his cell again and pressed redial.

" _Hi, it's Sookie. Y'all know what to do."_

It seemed as though Sookie was taunting him because despite what she said, _he_ didn't know what to do. He had never found himself in a situation like this before.

Never. Not even when Sylvie went missing for days.

It happened early last year a few days after New Year's Eve. They had a big fight, which ended with her storming out of his apartment in the middle of night. He couldn't remember how it started. All he could think of was that he was too exhausted to follow her. So fucking tired of having the same argument he had no chance of winning. So he let her leave.

She had been gone for days. No calls, no emails, no angry texts. Nothing. She was in the wind and the sad part was he couldn't summon enough willpower to give a damn.

Pam had given him hell for his apathy. Accused of him acting like the Colonel. _You really are your father's son_ , she said. Her words stung but it still didn't hurt enough for him to search for his missing fiancée. Sylvie was an entitled little rich girl. Her manipulative skills could rival his own and looking for her would only enable her.

On the fourth night, he came home and found Sylvie in his bed, naked under his sheets. They fucked until the sun came up and just like that all was forgotten. He didn't ask where she went and she never asked why he didn't follow.

 _That_ right there _was_ a crisis. And he dealt with it the only way he knew how, by compartmentalizing. He knew he couldn't control Sylvie so he didn't even try.

God, if Sylvie could see him right now she'd spit on his face. She'd loathe how frantic he was as he searched for the woman he barely knew. She'd curse him to hell for caring too much. For forgetting how to default to the cold-hearted son of a bitch that he was.

He had been Eric Rothman for too long he had forgotten who he used to be.

Eric Rothman had nothing. Eric Northman had everything.

And that was when it hit him. _He_ was Eric Northman. He had everything. He had Stan Davis.

Without saying a word, he dashed out of Sam's office as he punched a set of numbers he had committed to memory in his cell.

It only took two rings before Stan picked up.

"Eric! Goddammit, what happened to you? We've been calling you all day," was Stan's warm greeting.

"I need a favor."

"I kinda have my hands full with the last favor you asked," Stan said drily.

"How did you know I was in Bon Temps?" he asked, ignoring Stan's snark.

"I traced your call."

Eric thought as much. "Can you trace a number for me?"

"Why? What're you up to this time?"

"Stan!" he roared, his anxiety getting the best of him.

A hush fell at the other line before Stan spoke again. This time his tone was clinical. "What do you need?"

"I need you to trace this phone," Eric then recited Sookie's contact.

"Louisiana," Stan noted, stating the obvious. "Is it active?"

"My calls are going straight to voicemail, probably because of spotty cell reception. Will that be a problem?"

"I might be able to track down the last known location."

"How long?"

Stan sighed audibly. "Give me a few minutes."

"This is urgent, Stan."

"I know. You wouldn't yell at me otherwise. I'll call you as soon as I get a trace."

Eric hung up right before he spotted Jason marching in the hallway.

"Have you found her?" Jason asked, sweat glistening across his forehead.

Eric could only shake his head.

"Shit!" Jason spat out loud.

Not a minute later, Deputy Fortenberry showed up donning his tan uniform.

"Jase!" the deputy called.

"Hoyt! Sook's missin'." Jase wobbled toward his friend. "Do you think it's -"

"No," Hoyt cut Jason off. "It's not. I checked. I swear it's not. Calm down, bubba. We'll find her."

Eric was too distracted to try to decipher Jason and Hoyt's code. Nothing else mattered anymore. Not without her.

Hoyt offered to survey the grounds with Jason. With the diners gone, Sam gathered the rest of his staff in the dining area, while Eric and Alcide stayed in his office.

There was an eerie kind of stillness in the room as the two reached an impasse. It seemed nothing tamed two beasts better than the fear of an unknown danger.

The silence broke when Eric's cell came to life.

"Did you get it?" Eric asked as he pressed the phone to his ear.

Stan, probably sensing the urgency in Eric's tone, skipped the preamble too as he dictated the address of the last known location of the phone number.

Eric didn't bother to thank Stan before he turned to Alcide and asked if he was familiar with the address.

"That's the address for Merlotte's," Alcide said, confusion etched on his face. "Why?"

Eric cursed out loud. Stan's information was useless.

"Eric?" Alcide asked again.

He sighed. "I asked someone to trace Sookie's phone. She must have left it here before she left. Fuck!"

"Left where? Tara checked her locker, her phone's not there. Neither is her purse."

Eric stared at Alcide.

"So she brought it with her? If she had it…" Eric's voice trailed off as a light bulb clicked. "What if she never left Merlotte's?"

Alcide shook his head. "No. Can't be. We looked everywhere."

Eric made a mad dash to the dining hall. "When was the last time Arlene had seen Sookie?"

Sam, Tara and Lafayette exchanged looks.

"In the kitchen, when she was preppin'," Sam replied.

"The front door was closed after lunch, yes?" Eric asked.

Sam nodded slowly.

"Which means she had to use the backdoor to leave the bar given that it was the only viable exit," Eric murmured mostly to himself.

"Nah-ah. There's another exit," Lafayette butted in. "The delivery door by the supply room, behind the kitchen."

Sam sprang to his feet as he led the way to the kitchen, closely followed by the rest. They squeezed themselves through the stacks of boxes to get through the supply room.

Why hadn't anyone thought to check in there was beyond Eric's comprehension. The supply room was more of an appendix, Tara explained as they weaved their way inside.

The first thing Eric noticed when he walked in was the musty smell. Boxes were stacked together in one corner, while rusty cans were hoarded in another. The sanitary department would have a field day with this stock room.

Crates of soda and beer occupied most of the space. Sam and Alcide went straight to the far end of the room where a pyramid of beer kegs and wine barrels obscured an entire wall. Tara and Maudette hung back as Lafayette went on to inspect the bar's other entry point.

Eric was trailing Lafayette when he knocked over an empty oil can that had been upended beside a steel door.

"What's this door for?" Eric asked no one in particular.

"That's the walk-in," Tara bellowed.

He kicked the can out of the way and ran his thumb over the door handle. It had a thin film of oil slick.

"How do you open this?"

"You can't. Terry broke the lock the other day," Tara explained as she jogged toward him.

Curiousity got the better of Eric as he tried to yank the greasy lever. He encountered resistance.

"You gotta push the handle down then pull out," Tara murmured beside him.

Without thinking, he peeled off his shirt and covered the handle to gain more traction. It still refused to budge so he pushed it down harder.

"Eric, stop, you're bleedin'!" Tara exclaimed beside him.

He glanced down at the patch of gauze at the side of his stomach and saw crimson liquid blooming. Fuck it. Alcide could just stitch him up again later. It was the only upside of having him around anyway.

He heard a creak and it encouraged him to exert more force.

"Dammit Eric! You're bustin' your stitches!" Alcide bellowed from across the room.

"Shut the fuck up and just help me!" Eric fired back through gritted teeth. Before Alcide could admonish him again, Eric heard a clink.

"You did it! Now pull!" Tara barked.

He did as he was told all the while ignoring the searing pain in his gut.

The heavy steel door gave in as it moved an inch. There was a thick clump of ice attached to its edges causing obstruction. Alcide finally decided to give him a hand as they both pulled it open.

A few expletives later, the door proved no match to brute force. A plume of chilly air escaped the steel box as it yawned open. Tara and Lafayette both shivered as they retreated to the back. The half-naked Eric, on the other hand, wasn't bothered by the low temperature. He had Swedish blood. This was picnic weather.

Eric stepped in and immediately stopped in his tracks as he spied two bodies curled up against the back wall.

 _No!_

Eric might be used to the cold but the sight made his blood chill.

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric.**

 **Don't kill me! I promise I'll post the next chapter soon. Next will be another EPOV while they defrost Sookie.**

 **As always, MsStitcher is the effin' bomb! Thank you m'love!**

 **Your thoughts feed the muse, don't let her starve. She can be a flaky bitch, I know, sorry. We'll make it up to you in the next chapter. Thank you!**

 **Also I want to give a huge shout out to those who nominated my babies - Dead Man's Hand (my favorite kid) and Chasing Shadows (the prodigal son) – to Fanatic Fanfic Awards for All-Time Favorite True Blood Fanfic. You know who you are!** _ **I love you!**_

 **I have no delusions given the calibre of stories my babies are up against. I am just so humbled by the recognition. Voting has started last Monday (April 11). For those of you who haven't voted yet, you can do it here: www . awards. fanaticfanfics . index. php/ vote#favorite-true-blood- fanfic (just delete the spaces in between because FFN doesn't allow website postings here). There are so many great stories from different fandoms there too.** _ **There's gold in them thar hills!**_

 **Until next loves!**


	20. Chapter 20

Eric didn't think it was possible, but he swore his heart stopped beating when he saw her.

"Sookie!" Eric bellowed as he lunged forward and fell to his knees in front of the unconscious woman jackknifed against the wall.

His hands trembled as they hovered over her pale cheeks. For the first time in his life, he didn't know what to do. He was afraid to touch her, terrified to confirm his worst fear.

"Sookie," he said her name like a prayer as he leaned closer. Her eyes remained shut. Her lashes spiked with icicles, her bluish lips parted slightly. "Sookie! Sookie!" he screamed in desperation as he patted her cold, icy cheeks.

Eric, in his daze, hadn't even noticed Alcide and Sam behind him, squeezing through the narrow space.

"Jesus Christ!" Sam gasped behind him. "Terry!"

He might be the most selfish person in the room because he couldn't even bring himself to glance at the freezer's other occupant.

Eric's world was folding on itself. Gritting his teeth, he scooped her up. Alcide, who was helping Sam lift the cook, tried to grab Eric's shoulder to stop him. Eric merely shook him off with a glare.

"You're bleedin' Eric!" Alcide protested, using his shoulder to block Eric's path.

"Move!" Eric growled before he barreled past him.

Eric heard Lafayette mumble something incoherent as he lay Sookie down gently on the dusty floor. Sam and Alcide followed closely by and placed Terry next to her as Lafayette scrambled to take off the sheets of plastic encasing the cook. Tara and Maudette were nowhere to be seen. Perhaps Eric had blurred them out.

Alcide hunkered down beside her and reached for her neck. "I feel a pulse." He clamped his hands together and began pushing against her chest. "One. Two. Three."

Nothing.

Alcide pinched her nose before he pressed his lips over hers and blew air into her mouth.

Again, nothing.

"C'mon, Sook!" Alcide gritted out as he resumed with the herculean task of breathing life into her.

Then just as Alcide pulled back for air, she gasped as her eyelashes fluttered.

Eric hadn't realized he had been holding his breath until he felt her released hers.

Her eyes found his and he could swear he saw her smile before her eyelids drooped again.

Did she recognize him? He hoped she did. God, he hoped she did.

* * *

 **E/S**

Everything past that point had been a blur.

The paramedics arrived shortly. It was no longer a question of who would ride along with Sookie in the ambulance. One look at his grim expression and they all backed off. Even Alcide, who tried to pull ranks by using the Doctor card gave up, knowing this was one argument he wouldn't win.

He held her hand tightly as the two paramedics worked on raising her temperature, while pushing oxygen in her body through a bag-valve mask that covered most of her face.

Her hand was cold. Too fucking cold and it was making his stomach roil.

' _I can't be with someone as cold as you,'_ Sylvie's voice taunted him.

He squeezed his eyes shut to dispel the ringing in his ear.

* * *

' _You're selfish, Eric. You always blame your father for who you are but the truth is: it's all you. You're a selfish man who can't love anyone but yourself.'_

* * *

He raised her icy cold hand and pressed it against his lips. _Wake up, Sookie. Please, baby, wake up._

* * *

' _Your father was right. You destroy everything you love.'_

* * *

Eric felt dampness on his cheeks and realized he was crying. The last time he wept was at Godric's funeral. His brother deserved his tears.

 _She_ deserved his tears. So he wept. For all the unspoken words and all the might-have-beens if only he hadn't been such a coward.

The ambulance spluttered to a stop.

"Sir, you need to let go now," said one of the paramedics, who was holding the IV-line connected to Sookie's wrist.

His head shot up.

"We have to bring her to the E.R, you have to let go of her hand."

There was a moment of hesitation as he stared at her.

"She's not waking up. Why isn't she waking up again?"

"Sir, please," the paramedic insisted.

The rational part of his brain was screaming at him to let her go. So he dipped his head and brushed his lips against her forehead.

"I'll see you soon, okay?" he whispered. "I'll see you soon." He kissed the back of her hand one more time before he released her.

He trailed the paramedics as they wheeled the gurney inside. A couple of nurses barricaded his path as he tried to get inside the trauma room.

Alcide, who caught a ride in the second ambulance, scurried behind him as he accompanied the other gurney carrying the cook.

"Alcide," Eric grabbed the surgeon's meaty arm as he brushed past him. He couldn't think of anything to say so they just stared at each other.

A heartbeat passed before Alcide clamped his shaking hand over Eric's and said, "I got her, Eric. You know I love her too."

Eric clenched his jaw as Alcide disappeared into the treatment room. He wanted to yell that he didn't love her. He couldn't love her.

 _I can't destroy you if I don't love you._

* * *

 **E/S**

"Are you in pain?"

Eric blinked hard as he glanced up to meet the doctor's gaze. He had agreed to have someone tend to his wound if only to save himself the humiliation of passing out in the middle of the E.R. The physician who stitched him up was already in her golden years. She was diminutive – didn't even make it past his shoulder - with thinning silver hair and sunken cheeks. As frail as she looked, her voice surprisingly commanded authority.

"Your wound, son." She tipped her chin toward the newly-dressed incision on his stomach. "I can give you somethin' for the pain. Do you have any allergies?"

Eric shook his head as his gaze dropped to the floor. "I don't want painkillers."

The doctor's eyes narrowed. "Are you an addict, son?"

Eric gritted his teeth. He wished the doctor would stop calling him son. He was never anyone's son.

The tiny physician shrugged as she pulled out a prescription pad from her white lab coat. "Doctor Herveaux said you're already on antibiotics so that should be enough as long you finish the cycle. I'm gonna give you some iron supplement for the blood loss. You're lookin' too pale for my likin'. I'll also include a few Oxycodone for the pain."

"I don't want the Oxy," Eric murmured under his breath as he dragged the blue scrub top over his head. He now had two in his collection – one from Shreveport Gen and one from Bon Temps Hospital. Apparently, Godric wasn't the only collector in the family.

"Look, sonny, sure you may not want it now but I'm tellin' you as soon as the adrenaline wears off you'll thank me for it." The obstinate doctor got off her swivel chair and drew the blue curtain open.

"How is she?" He didn't have to say her name. They both knew who he meant.

The doctor gave him a look then sighed. "Sookie's stable, so is Terry. They're still unconscious at the moment but their stats look promising - their core temperature is back to normal, good brain activity. All in all, it could have been worse. Doctor Herveaux is checking on both patients. He's the best trauma surgeon in town. They couldn't be in better hands."

Eric had nothing more to say.

The doctor regarded him closely before she ripped a page off of her pad and handed it to him. "Here give this to Sam Merlotte, he's takin' care of all your bills. Your friends are in the waitin' room. Do me a favor, will ya? Don't go anywhere pullin' people out of freezers while you're still on the mend."

Eric didn't offer a response as he pulled himself off the edge of the narrow hospital bed and plucked the paper out of the doctor's hand. He said, "Thank you." And with a small nod, he marched out of the treatment room.

There was a smattering of people in the waiting area of the modest Bon Temps Hospital. He spotted Jason, hunched in a corner with Crystal, Deputy Hoyt and a redhead he had never seen before. Lafayette, Maudette and Arlene were lounging by the water dispenser, eyes fixed on the small TV at the nurses' station.

If the two groups were noticeably anxious, Sam was sweating bullets.

The bar owner was backed against the wall while a middle-aged, balding man in a Sheriff's uniform and a younger brunette, in a black-and-white pant suit, took turns wagging accusing fingers at him. Tara was surprisingly subdued as she held Sam's hand quietly.

Everyone had a corner. Even Sam.

Eric didn't have any. He didn't belong anywhere. Everywhere he went, he'd always be the perennial outsider. So with his head down, he aimed straight to the automatic glass doors.

The air was muggy outside, heavy and wet. He'd gotten used to it.

He stared at the crumpled paper in his hand and thought maybe the doctor was right. Maybe a few Oxy would be just the thing he needed. The last time he had taken those magical blue pills was also the last time he had felt this desperate, this terrified.

 _Fucking déjà vu._

* * *

The Colonel had waited until they were in the back of his car before he grabbed Eric by the collar, his calloused hand connecting to the fleshy part of Eric's cheek.

" _You fucking bastard!" his father thundered, eyes blazing with unhinged rage. "You killed my son! It should've been you! It should've been you!"_

Eric was too numb to feel any pain. Too high to comprehend his loss. Too fucking scared to give in to reality.

The Colonel was right. It should have been him. If he hadn't called Godric that night, his brother would've still been alive.

* * *

"Eric," Sam called out behind him. Eric whipped his head toward the sound and saw Sam eyeing him warily as they stood side by side. "What're you doin' here? Doctor Ludwig is lookin' for you."

"Just needed some air," Eric replied, thrusting the paper in his blood-smeared pocket. "Are there any updates?"

"Terry's awake. Disoriented but responsive. His improvised plastic suit did him well. They'll be transferrin' him to Shreveport later to assess the frostbites in his nose and ears. Hopefully the plastic surgeon can salvage the tissue." Sam looked at him sadly and sighed. "She's still in and out. The doctors are running a few more tests to check the severity of her hypothermia."

Eric pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do you have any idea how long they had been trapped in that freezer?"

Sam shook his head. "Terry must've been in there since this mornin' 'coz no one had actually seen him at Merlotte's today until… you know. As for Sook…" he paused. "I dunno. Arlene had spoken to her while she was doin' prep at three. So if I'm to guess maybe four, five hours? It didn't matter, in the end it didn't make a difference. Though Terry's been trapped there a lot longer, his plastic suit managed to keep him warm for a longer period of time, while Sook had been exposed to the cold the whole time."

Eric clenched his jaws. _Dammit, Sookie._

"It's okay to blame me, you know," Sam broke the silence. "Terry's cousin is gonna sue me for negligence. Maybe you and Jason should too."

Eric looked at Sam. The bar owner seemed deflated.

"Did you ask Terry to go inside that freezer? Did you ask Sookie?" Eric asked.

"No, but still, it was my freezer. What happens under my roof falls on me."

"I'm not going to sue you Sam and neither would Jason. Sookie wouldn't let him. She's more likely to blame herself than others. That's how her mind works. That's how she's built. And that's why I can't get mad at you."

Sam blew out a breath. "I was wrong about you," he mused out loud. He grinned as he rubbed his chin. "To be completely honest, I wasn't exactly on-board with 'Team Eric.'" He used air quotes to emphasize his point. "The first time I met you in the parking lot I thought you're an entitled prick. Then you surprised me by agreein' to work for me even after you found out just how much shit I was buried in."

Eric shoved his hands in his pockets. "I was mugged. I needed every penny."

"Oh please. My offer isn't exactly up your alley. Jason said that Tray was ready to hire you before I swooped in. The only leverage I have over Tray was Sookie."

Eric kept mum. Tray had asked him to look over his finances in his new shop in Monroe. It was all well and good until Tray mentioned that Eric would have to stay a couple of days out of Bon Temps - away from Sookie. _No, thank you_.

"It also didn't help that you look like a fuckin' rock star. I mean, look at you, man, I can't even stand next to without body-shamin' myself. I can't believe we're the same species. I knew Sook's standards were high. I didn't realize she'd raise the bar higher."

Eric was used to blandishments but this conversation was making him uncomfortable. "You don't have to flatter me, Sam. I already told you I'm not suing."

"I'm serious," Sam insisted. "You give Alcide a run for his money, which explains why he's so threatened by you. What I don't understand is: why you feel threatened by him?"

Before Eric could speak up, he spied Alcide walking toward them. Just like that the terror that had been muted for a few minutes came rushing back.

"Sookie's awake," Alcide declared loudly before turning to Eric. "She's looking for you."

Eric couldn't run fast enough.

* * *

 **E/S**

In a room full of people all he could see was her.

Sitting upright on the bed, swathed in white, gauzy hospital gown. If he squint his eyes he'd be able to see what was underneath that gown. Maybe that was why she held the blanket so close to her chest.

Jason was all smiles, perched on the edge of her bed with his arm draped protectively over his sister's shoulders.

"… and when he took off his shirt, I swear I thought he'd turn green. We're all screamin' at him 'You're bleedin' Eric!', but he's too far gone. He was a beast, Sook!" Tara exclaimed, her hands flailing dramatically in the air.

Everyone was so engrossed with Tara's play-by-play that no one had noticed him enter the room until he decided to make his presence felt by clearing his throat loud enough to get everyone's attention. _Her_ attention.

"Speakin' of the beast," Tara gushed, waving at him to come closer. "We we're just tellin' Sook how you muscled your way in that freezer and carried her out like you're the fuckin' Hulk."

Sookie had homed in on him. He couldn't read her expression.

Her eyes seemed misty. Had she been crying?

She dug her teeth into her lower lip as she waited for his response.

Damn, she shouldn't have done that. He could see her lips were still chapped.

Her tangled hair framed her now ruddy cheeks, loose curls bouncing across her collarbone as she shifted uncomfortably beside her brother. The harsh fluorescent lights highlighted the frostbites on her face and the blisters across her bare arms and just the sight of them all made him want to punch a hole through the walls of her cramped room.

He couldn't think of anything to say as he returned her gaze.

"You busted your stitches because of me," Sookie rasped. He almost didn't recognize her voice. It was deep and hoarse and much too painful to hear.

Her words sobered him up. _Smirk, goddammit._ He forced himself to crack a smile in an effort to be blasé.

"Please. It was either you or Terry. I just played it smart." His tone was light and dismissive.

No one bought it though. Especially not Sookie.

"What're you doin'?" Tara whisper-hissed beside him. "Why're you screwin' the pooch?"

He didn't need to form a reply as Alcide and Sam marched in.

"Sorry to cut this short folks but I'm afraid we need to let our patient rest for now," Alcide announced apologetically.

Jason's head shot up. "Y'mean Sook's stayin' here?"

Alcide gave Jason a pat on the shoulder. "Sorry bud. We're still waitin' for her test results. It's best if she stays here at least for the night."

"I wanna go home, Alcide," Sookie said rather petulantly, her eyes wide like saucers.

Jason squeezed her shoulder.

"I know," Alcide replied, smiling ruefully. "But this ain't my hospital and I ain't your doctor, I'm only assistin' here. They've already bent so many rules by lettin' me work on your case. Sorry, cher, my hands are tied."

Eric tried not to wince at the pet name. He could think of so many Cher-jokes right now, but he reined himself in. This was not the time.

"I'm stayin' with her," Jason said with a sigh.

"So am I," Eric interjected.

"Only family members can stay," Alcide replied pointedly.

"He's family," Sookie retorted and just like that everyone's eyes were back on her. She didn't recant though as she flashed Eric the faintest of smiles. "Eric's stayin'. 'Sides, can't you see he's injured, you can't send him home like that. He's better here. I _want_ him here."

Eric instantly went rigid at the declaration. So did Alcide.

"That's it then. We're all gonna stay here for the night and hope to God we didn't leave the oven on," Jason quipped with a grin, trying to diffuse the tension.

If Alcide had any more objections he didn't voice them out.

The rest of Sookie's visitors – Crystal, Tara, Lafayette, Maudette, Hoyt and the woman who was clinging tightly to his arm - took turns murmuring 'get well soon' and 'see you later' to Sookie before they made a beeline to the door. It was past midnight and the sheer exhaustion was evident on their faces.

"I'm gonna drive Crystal home," Jason whispered to Sookie. "I can drop by the house on my way back, d'you need me to bring you anythin' from the house?"

"A change of clothes would be nice," Sookie replied weakly. "And a toothbrush."

Jason nodded. "Clothes. Toothbrush," he repeated before he turned to Eric. "Same for you?"

Eric nodded his yes.

Jason gave Eric a pat on the back, "Try to rest, bubba. I'll be back soon."

Eric wanted to say 'take your time' but decided to settle for a little smile instead.

And then they were alone.

The room seemed bigger now as Eric clutched the steel frame at the foot of her bed.

"Nice shirt," she croaked, breaking the silence, her voice still alien to his ears. "Brings out your eyes."

He looked down at his shirt and smiled. "Got it from the gift shop. Yours isn't too shabby either. Brings out your tan."

She chuckled. "Part of the new fall collection."

He grinned, glad that she hadn't lost her bantering skill.

"How's your wound?" she asked.

"Numb. Doctor Ludwig said it won't stay that way though, I'm keeping my fingers crossed she's wrong." He gingerly made his way to side of her bed, choosing the side without the hospital machines and the IV-line, keeping his movement as small as possible.

Sookie chuckled raggedly. The sound wasn't any better. "It's 'lood-vig'; she's half-German. Rumor has it she used to run the Gestapo."

He bobbed his head. "Explains her sunny disposition." He moved closer, but still at arm's length. "How're you?"

"Happy to be alive," she beamed. "Thanks to you."

His face fell and he tried to cover it by rubbing the five o'clock shadow along his jaw. "Don't thank me. Thank Alcide. I was only there for the heavy lifting; he did most of the work. Gave you CPR, mouth-to-mouth and all. I think Maudette got it on tape, ask her."

Sookie regarded him closely. "What're you doin?"

"Giving credit where credit's due."

"Modesty doesn't really suit you, Eric."

He shrugged her comment off, avoiding eye-contact.

"Are you so used to playin' the villain that you forgot how to be the cavalry? Where's the Eric with the Messiah complex?"

He swallowed thickly as he propped himself on the edge of her bed.

For a while, he just sat there and stared while Sookie straightened her spine and held his gaze.

A few heartbeats later, he decided he couldn't take the silence anymore and let his eyes wander the length of her arm - hoping his glare would scare away her blisters.

"You know when Jason told me the origins story of 'Sookie and Alcide' I thought to myself, what if I had been the one who saved Jason that day? Man, things would've been so much easier for me."

He couldn't help it. He had to touch her. He reached for her hair instead, gently tugging at the end of a wispy strand before tucking it behind her ear.

"I could have been your Superman and I wouldn't have to try so hard to make you like me."

The muscle around her neck tightened. She was conflicted, unsure how to respond. It was too late for him though. This was it. No more pussyfooting around. It was time to grab that fucking elephant by its tusks and hope for the best. Or at least brace himself for rejection.

She didn't say anything though. She opened her mouth but no word came out.

"The day my brother died was the worst day of my life," he kept on, swallowing the lump in his throat. "Today was a close second. When I saw you in that freezer, I froze." He forced himself to chuckle at the irony, but what came out sounded so hollow, sad. "I didn't know what to do Sookie. I couldn't even touch you because I was afraid you'd break."

"Eric…"

"I couldn't even give you CPR for fuck's sake."

"You weren't trained for that," she tried to reason.

"No." He shook his head slowly. "I couldn't because I was scared. I was terrified it wouldn't be enough. _I_ wouldn't be enough."

"Don't say that," she chastised weakly, grabbing his trembling hand. "If it weren't for you, Terry and I would still be locked in that freezer. You found me. _You_. Not Sam. Not Alcide. You."

"And if it weren't for Alcide, you'd be dead," he spat. "Believe me, Sookie, I want to be your Superman, I do. I want to feel what it's like to be on that pedestal. To have you look at me with the same awe. To have the privilege of being yours."

Her cracked lips parted as she sucked in a breath.

"I thought I'd lost you, Sookie. I held your hand in that ambulance and all I could think of was all of the time I wasted convincing myself I didn't like you. All the time I spent resenting Alcide." He finally looked away as his gaze fell on Sookie's hand over his. "Alcide saved you. He's the reason you're here. He's the reason I can do this." He flipped his hand and laced his fingers with hers. "How can I possibly take the credit from the man who brought you back to me?"

He didn't know how it happened. In his defense, he wasn't looking at her. That's why he didn't see the way she stared at him with wonder through her tear-filled eyes. He only felt her fingers tightening around his before she pulled him forward and crushed her lips to his.

He stilled, too shocked to comprehend what was happening.

 _Open your mouth, bozo! Open your fucking mouth and show her you're not a total idiot._

He did. He heeded the screaming voices in his head and parted his lips and kissed her back.

She inhaled sharply when his tongue darted out, moistening her bottom lip. She tried to reciprocate but he could tell she was second-guessing herself. He wanted more.

God, he wanted so much more.

He wanted bury his fingers in her hair and pull her closer, push his tongue deeper into her mouth and find out once and for all just how fucking sweet she really was.

He didn't push her though. He let her dictate the tempo and prayed to every saint he could name that Sookie wouldn't stop.

She stopped, of course. He almost cursed out loud at the sudden loss.

She was breathing heavily as she drew back. He couldn't tell if he was too. He was too busy trying to slow his heart rate down.

"You pushed your ego aside for me," she husked in between breaths. "I know how hard that is for you." She stroked his cheek with her thumb. "I don't want a savior, Eric. I want someone brave enough to admit he ain't strong enough to lose me."

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric.**

 **As promised! See, sometimes I keep my word. Thank you for all your lovely comments. My evil muse is getting less bitchy.**

 **Of course, this wouldn't be half as presentable if it weren't to Her Awesomeness MsStitcher. All mistakes are mine and mine alone.**

 **Until next m'loves! Have a fabulous weekend! XO**


	21. Chapter 21

Sookie was a virgin. No, it wasn't a title of a Mexican-inspired sitcom. Sookie was an actual 25-year-old virgin. Although her hymen was still intact it didn't mean she hadn't kissed anyone before.

Oh boy, she had. She had kissed a bunch of men. A bunch. Okay, maybe not that many. Three to be exact.

Her first was with her best friend. Sookie was thirteen and he was three years her senior in an ill-conceived game of seven minutes in heaven. Having drawn the short straw, they were thrust in a closet that reeked of moth balls and old socks. Honoring the sanctity of the game, they both puckered up. It didn't last seven minutes. It was short and awkward and they both knew it didn't feel right. He wasn't the man for her and she wasn't the right gender for him.

When their time was up, Lafayette stepped out of the closet with her in more ways than one.

That was how she earned the nickname 'Spatula Sook'. For her knack at flipping a straight man gay. The teasing lasted for about three months. Right about the time Lafayette had swapped his baggy Saints' jerseys to fitted mesh tank tops.

Her second was her prom date, Preston. Nice guy - tall, dark and handsome in a geeky sort of way. His hands were trembling as he clasped the twenty-five-dollar corsage around her wrist. He was the perfect gentleman. She only caught him peeking at her cleavage once.

He brought her home in his father's Chevy ten minutes before her curfew and walked her all the way to the porch. She was going for a peck on the cheek when he 'accidentally' whisked his head and his mouth caught hers. He kissed better than Lafayette but it still didn't feel right.

Preston asked for another date the next day and Sookie – taking a page out of Lafayette's book - told him she was gay.

That seemed to do the trick as the boys backed off and she was able to spend the rest of her senior year in peace.

College was a whole different ball game. Frat boys didn't seem to mind that she was into girls. For them, she was a challenge. The running theory was the fact that she liked women would only increase the possibility of a threesome.

Men started hounding her like dogs in heat. She shot them down one by one. Some were more adamant though - like roaches in a deli.

She was in her sophomore year when she finally agreed to go out on a date. His name was Brendan, a Dallas native. He had green eyes, the color of emerald. He was irritatingly smart, refreshingly polite and obscenely wealthy. He took her to Houston on their first date, brought her to the NASA Space Center. He didn't try to kiss her during the eight-hour drive. When she went back to her dorm room that night, she thought it was time to give up on Alcide. Space was too big even for Superman.

Their second date wasn't as ostentatious. They had picnic in the park where Brendan introduced her to soft cheese. Canapes and champagne with a dreamy guy, it couldn't get any better than that. He wanted to be a neurosurgeon, he told her. A man with a brain ticked one more item on her list. He talked and talked and talked and she listened and gushed and dreamed.

He drove her back to her dorm and she kissed him good night. She was unbuckling her seatbelt when she heard a distinct swoosh as Brendan unzipped his fly. She gaped at him in horror.

" _Oh c'mon, I think I've earned it."_ He placed his hand on top of her head and gave her a downward nudge.

She plastered on a smile as fake as his motives as she shoved her hand in her tote bag. He pushed his seat back and braced himself for his 'reward'. He didn't see the can of Mace in her hand before she sprayed the leer off of his face. He yelled out loud as he clapped his hands over his eyes.

" _You crazy bitch!"_

He had no idea just how crazy she was. She climbed out of his Audi and sprinted to her building. The next day she filed a harassment report to the university and she never heard from him again. For someone who wanted to study the human brain, he sure lacked one. Without a doubt, that kiss wasn't right.

And then there was Eric.

Her reluctant hero. The man with a mean right hook, a cocky grin, a wonderfully analytical mind and a complicated past. Eric and his soft, soft lips, who kissed her with the tenderness that left her wanting more.

It took her three attempts to finally get it right. This, right here, felt right.

Her heart was hammering in her chest as she stared at him. She wished he would say something. He hadn't spoken a single word after her whole I-want-you-speech and his silence was starting to make her nervous.

"Say something," she whispered. She was already racking her brain for of an exit strategy. Maybe she could fake a coma? She'd close her eyes and pretend to lose consciousness. She could blame the drugs. Or say it was a side-effect of having been recently thawed. He would buy that, right? _Oh God, please, just say something!_

Just when she was getting ready to play possum, Eric's Adam's apple bobbed. He swallowed. Hard. Was that a good sign? Sookie didn't know.

"That was…" his voice trailed off as he raked his fingers through his tousled hair.

 _Great?_

 _Epic?_

 _Disastrous?_

 _Oh God._

"Just like how I imagined it to be."

 _Phew!_

A smile crept up her face before she could stop it. "You've imagined kissing me?"

It was his turn to flash his patented lopsided smirk. "Since the night you walked in Fantasia."

Her gaze dropped to her lap as she tucked her hair behind her ears. She was gushing like a school girl, great, just great. As if she couldn't make this any more embarrassing.

"Actually," she paused to clear her throat, "you sorta did. Before you ran out of the bar, you kissed me right here." Her finger jabbed the middle of her forehead.

"I was actually aiming for this," he husked as he hooked his thumb under her chin and grazed her bottom lip with his index finger. "I just miscalculated how short you are."

She playfully whacked him at the chest with the back of her hand as she thrust her head up. "Hey! I'm not short. I'm delightfully petite. You're just freakishly tall with a lousy aim."

He chuckled, baring his teeth. "Don't worry, I've done the math. I'm not missing my mark this time."

He seized her mouth before she could form another retort. And he was right. His aim was dead on.

This time around, he wasn't as gentle or timid. This kiss had conviction, a point to make. It was consuming, feverish. She could barely keep up with him as he swept his tongue in her mouth, daring her to engage. He angled his head as his fingers got lost in her hair. And then just when she thought he couldn't get her any more worked up, a slow rumbling noise erupted from the back of his throat. The sound of his growl made her toes curl.

Sweet mother of cheeses, she was hooked.

She was breathless by the time he released her. He was panting too. Maybe she wasn't as rusty as she thought.

"Okay," she huffed. "You're really good at math."

He smiled widely, seemingly pleased with himself. "I'll show you how I do long division later," he quipped as he stroked her cheek with his thumb.

She rolled her eyes at him, if only to hide her excitement.

"Can I ask you something?" he said as he settled back in his plastic chair, his thumb drawing figure eights on her palm.

"Shoot."

"Why didn't you wrap yourself with plastic like Terry did?"

She shrugged. "There was no more plastic left. 'Sides, I didn't think you'd take that long to find me." She gave him a pointed look but the curl at the side of her lips belied her.

"I didn't know you were missing," he said, half-apology, half-excuse. "All along I thought you were busy in the kitchen. Or you were playing hard-to-get by making me miss you."

She grinned. "Well, did you? I mean, did you miss me?"

He skewered her with a look as he arched his brow. "What do you think?"

She looked down at her palm as she bit her lip, contemplating how to phrase her next sentence.

In the end, she settled with a two-word plea, "Then stay."

"Huh?"

She swallowed thickly before she said, "Stay here."

"I will," he replied quickly. "Do you really think I'd go home without you?"

Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips. "I don't just mean tonight."

His thumb that was stroking her palm stilled. Her eyes flickered back to his face and saw him looking back at her, slack-jawed.

Eric was smart enough to know what she meant. If only she were as sharp to read what was on his mind.

He closed his mouth as the muscles along his jaw leapt. Jesus. Did she make a colossal mistake?

"Sookie, I -"

He didn't get to finish his sentence as the door burst open.

"You'd never believe what just happened!" Jason was practically shaking with excitement as he barged in. "Terry and Arlene got engaged! They were wheelin' him out for his transfer to Shreveport Gen when he popped the question. At first no one could understand him with his Frankenstein voice and all. Alcide had to translate it for him and Arlene just lost her shit! She was bawlin' like it's nobody's business in the middle of the E.R! Jesus you should've-"

Jason's animated account halted as his eyes ping-ponged from Sookie to Eric before it landed to their clasped hands.

Sookie snatched her hand reflexively while Eric straightened up in his chair.

"What's goin' on here?" Jason asked suspiciously. "Did I miss somethin'?"

Sookie flashed Jason a smile before she shook her head. "Nope. Nothin'," she replied haphazardly. "Where're Terry and Arlene now?" She was actually privy to Terry's plan; she just didn't anticipate he'd do it right away.

"They're on their way to Shreveport," Jason answered, the dubious expression on his face was still there. "You sure, you guys are okay?"

Eric merely shrugged.

"I thought you're gonna bring Crystal home?" Sookie asked to divert Jason's attention away from her and Eric.

"Hoyt and Jess offered to give her a ride instead," Jason responded as he plopped on the small and narrow couch by the wall. "I'm too tired to drive. My leg is killin' me. I'll just leave early tomorrow to get your stuff. Is that alright?"

Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Eric's shoulders drop. The feeling was mutual.

Sookie faked a yawn.

"Sleepy?" Eric asked.

She nodded. "I think I've had enough excitement for now. I'm sure I'll hear all about Terry and Arlene's engagement tomorrow. I'd rather hear it from the girls. No offense, Jase but comin' from you ain't givin' me the feels."

Jason scowled at her before he turned to Eric. "Oh Eric, Doctor Ludwig's lookin' for you. She said you forgot to sign your form. Don't worry, bud, I already filled it up they only need your signature."

There it was again - the hard line along Eric's jaw as he rose to standing. It seemed as if he was conflicted, burdened.

He bowed his head to brush his knuckles against her cheek. "Get some rest. I'll be back." He fluffed her pillow as he supported the back of her head so she could sink in with ease.

She squeezed her eyes shut and bobbed her head, a wistful smile on her face, no longer caring if Jason was watching them.

* * *

 **E/S**

"Sign here and here," said the tall, blonde nurse with a hard jaw and droopy eyes as she pointed the tip of her ballpoint pen on the two blank lines at the bottom of the page.

Eric took the pen tethered by a chain metal link atop the nurses' station and scanned the paper. Jason had written down Eric Rothman on the name column along with the address of the farmhouse. The rest was left blank.

The nurse eyed him through her heavily-lidded eyes. "Is there somethin' wrong Mister Rothman?"

"Do I need to fill in the rest of the form?"

"Oh, no need. This hospital is affiliated with Shreveport Gen and since you already have a record there, you don't have to do another one."

"What if I need to alter a few details?" Eric asked. "You see, I wasn't exactly in perfect condition when I was in Shreveport and I'm afraid I might have left a few blanks there as well."

"Oh," the nurse said as she tapped her pen on her chin. "Well, would you like to get a new form now?"

Shit. He did not think this through. He didn't want Sookie to find out about his real identity this way. He could use a little more time.

Luckily for him, the nurse came to his rescue.

"Actually I think it's better if we do this tomorrow. It's late and our encoder has already gone home. Your form might end up gettin' lost in the stack otherwise. Is that alright?"

He smiled with relief. "That'll be fine."

Eric bid the nurse good night like a perfect Southerner. He might have even forced a drawl, he wasn't sure. But by the time he left the nurse, she no longer looked sleepy. He couldn't help it, he was happy. Too goddamn happy.

And then his phone rang.

He was only a few steps away from Sookie's room, he debated ignoring the call. He glanced at the screen and noted Stan's number. He might as well answer it. If it weren't for Stan's assistance earlier, he never would have thought to look closely in the bar.

"Hello?" Eric greeted the caller.

"Ah, I get a hello now," Stan quipped. "Is it safe to assume my information yielded positive results?"

A smile toyed at the corner of Eric's lips. "You don't have to be smug about it."

Stan chuckled. "Well since you're being awf'lly gracious, you're welcome."

"Thank you," Eric finally muttered. He had to admit that having someone with Stan's skill set on his team was rather useful.

"See, was that really so hard?" Stan teased. "So, are you going to tell me what the fuck happened or are you going to make me guess?"

"I was looking for a friend."

"Riiiight… _a friend_ ," Stan hummed. Eric could almost hear Stan rolling his eyes. "Is she hot? Tell me she's at least a Louisiana nine or a New York seven."

"Fuck you."

Stan cackled. "Sorry Eric; you're not my type."

Eric couldn't help but snigger along with Stan. It was a running joke between Stan and the Northman boys - one that the Colonel didn't find amusing. Not one bit.

"She okay now?" Stan asked as their laughter tapered off.

"How did you know she was in trouble?"

"I'm good at deduction. Also, I'm running a trace on your phone. Bon Temps Hospital, right? Man, you should consider changing your travel pack; hospitals don't qualify as tourist spots."

"I asked you to tail Felipe, Stan. Not stalk me."

"Oh yeah, about that… I was able to hack into Felipe's computer," Stan began. "He, like you said, was pulling out all the stops to ensure the safety of his loot. He hadn't tried to access the money since I tapped into his system. I assumed he has someone to do that for him."

 _Sandy_ , Eric thought.

"However, I was able to retrieve his browser history and cache file. Bada-bing, bada-boom I found our money trail, which ended in Geneva."

Fuck.

"He's hiding the money in a Swiss bank," Eric concluded Stan's summation.

"Yup. Sneaky, yet classy," Stan murmured. "As you know, Swiss bankers take their jobs brutally serious. Account holders are only identifiable by numbers, no name whatsoever to protect their clients. Although I managed to get the account number, it's not really the kind of smoking gun I know you want. Felipe himself has to confirm that the account belongs to him."

 _Fucking Felipe._ Why didn't he just funnel the money in the Cayman Islands like a good ol' thug? Offshore accounts in the Caymans were easier for Eric to track. He had people working there who owed him a couple of favors.

Eric rubbed his forehead. All is not lost, he thought with vague optimism. "This is fine," he said, shaking off the sense of gloom. "We've had this discussion before. Now that you've traced the money, we have enough dirt to give the Feds. Pam can now deliver De Castro's head to them on a velvet pillow. We know where the money is. All we need to do is inform Pam so she can alert the FBI and let them do their fucking job."

There was a few seconds of silence from the other line before Stan spoke up again. "You haven't talked to Pam, have you?"

Eric had been snubbing Pam's calls since this morning. He had a sinking feeling in his gut that he would pay for it right about now.

"What is it?" Eric asked, his tone growing tense.

"She had a meeting with Appius early today. It appears as though that the deal your father brokered with the FBI in exchange for Pam's release is a little more nuanced than a simple slap on the wrist."

This was exactly why he wasn't thrilled that Miriam went to his father for help. When it came to the Colonel, nothing was black and white. There was always – _always_ – a fine print.

"What did he do now?" Eric gritted out.

"Your father's feebie connection agreed to keep this off the books if the stolen money is returned within thirty days without involving the FBI. If we turn Felipe over to the feebies, this'll become an official investigation which will hence break the deal. Northman Cap has no choice but to go public with the embezzlement."

Eric leaned heavily against a wall, feeling the weight of Stan's words against his shoulders.

"De Castro will drag Northman Cap down with him," Eric hushed in defeat. "We'll be forced to dissolve the company."

"That might not be the case," Stan interjected. "Pam said there's another way to gain access to the account without involving the Feds."

The hair on the back Eric's neck bristled. The same idea had crossed his mind as soon as Stan mentioned Geneva. And it was the one door he didn't want to knock on.

"No," Eric said in a clipped tone.

"Are you serious?" Stan sounded genuinely surprised. "This is your only chance to get away scot free. To save your company."

"I'm not asking Sylvie for help," Eric muttered out loud.

Sylvie's sister, Sophie-Anne, had a deep connection with a few high-ranked members in a Swiss bank based in Paris. The woman could pull some strings and then some. She had done it for Eric before. After Eric returned to the US from France with Sylvie, he discovered that Godric, as stated in his will, had left him the majority of his estate. Appius was outraged and tried to hide it from Eric. Aware of his son's connection in the Cayman Islands, Appius decided to use a different channel.

Unfortunately for the devious Colonel, he underestimated the number of people who would like to curry favor from his son. It only took one call for Sophie-Anne to locate the account in a Swiss operated bank stationed in Singapore.

"Sylvie's in New York, Eric," Stan tried to reason with him again. "She flew in two days ago after Pam called her."

 _Fucking Pam._

"Does she know where I am?"

"I don't know. You should ask Pam."

He definitely would. Pam had seriously overstepped her boundaries this time.

"Think about it, Eric. Don't take too long though. There are too many moving pieces here."

Eric didn't have to think. "Tell Pam to call the Feds."

Stan sighed long and hard before he spoke again. "Is she worth it?" he asked. They both knew who Stan meant. "You'll be risking everything for this woman, Eric. Make sure she's worth the trouble."

Eric finally cracked a smile. He didn't have to think to know that she was.

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric.**

 **Sorry for the long break. I had some issues with my computer. Let's just say, there have been a few tears. Everything's sorted now, thank you very much. Next chapter will be ready soon! (Pinky swear!)**

 **Big, big thanks to my rock star beta, MsStitcher. She's keeping me from going totally bonkers. Love you, R!**

 **All mistakes are mine.**

 **Thank you, thank you for reading and leaving thoughtful and constructive feedback! You guys! Much, much love!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Warning: Fluff ahead.**

Sookie tried to wait for Eric to return for as long she could. Eventually, the fatigue caught up with her and she had fallen asleep.

She woke up disoriented. The inside of her mouth tasted like cotton. The fluorescent light was too bright for her liking that she had to press the heels of her hands on her eyelids to dispel the incoming nausea.

For a moment there she thought she was home. Back in her room, lying on her bed. But the smell of over-bleached linens told her otherwise. She was in a hospital.

Oh yeah, she almost died last night. The IV-line hooked to a vein on her wrist reminded her of her ordeal.

She looked down at her lap and saw him.

Eric.

His head was on the edge of her bed, facing her, mouth agape as he snored ever so softly. Even in sleep he was such a princess.

He was sitting in a white plastic chair. One arm draped around her blanket-covered legs while the other was bent over his lap. He looked so peaceful.

She glanced in the direction of the sofa and found it empty. Jason must have left early to go to the farmhouse. She was parched. She spied a white paper cup and a plastic pitcher filled with water on top of the cabinet beside her bed. Gingerly, she reached for the pitcher and poured herself a cup of water and downed it quickly. Her lips were still chapped but at least the inside of her mouth didn't taste like metal anymore.

Sookie turned her attention back to Eric. Her mouth curved into a smile as she watched him with rapt fascination, wondering if he knew that his presence had stirred something in her. Something she hadn't felt in a very long time.

* * *

 _ **Yesterday…**_

"I c-can't feel my face," Terry stammered beside her.

Sookie swivelled her torso just enough to give him a sideway glance. He had his eyes closed, icicles forming on his brows. She gently swept her thumb over his brows to dust off the powdery frost.

"It's still there. Don't worry," she quipped.

"We're g-gonna die here, aren't w-we?"

"We're not gonna die here, Ter," she murmured with as much confidence as she could muster. "Someone will find us." She was starting to sound like a broken record.

"S-sorry to burst your bubble Sook, b-but I've b-b-been here since t-this mornin' and I-I'm s-still here."

"Only because they sent the wrong person to rescue you," she jested, punctuated with a self-deprecating smile. "Hang in there a little longer, Ter."

Terry wobbled his head, his weak attempt at nodding. Sookie took his assent as she pressed her back against his shoulder and looped her arms around her folded knees.

The worst part of being trapped in a galvanized steel box wasn't the bitter cold that cut through the bone. After some time, the human body would get used to it, she learned that in Pre-med. The shivering would cease as the heart rate slowed down. It was the brain's way of telling the other organs to 'shut the fuck down' as it defaulted to defense mode.

It would only go downhill from there. As the organs start to plunge into suspended animation, the happy hormones would cease to exist as depression kicked in.

 _Why hasn't anyone found me yet?_

 _Am I that irrelevant that no one even noticed me gone?_

 _Would I be missed?_

 _This is the end._

And by the looks of it, Terry was halfway there. He had been in the walk-in for at least eight hours on his own. The plastic sheet was able to keep his core temperature close to normal, which was why he was still shivering. His hypothalamus hadn't given up yet. Her main priority was keeping him awake and lucid.

"Arlene's lookin' for you," Sookie hushed without looking at Terry. She felt him twitch. Good sign. "She said you had a fight. That's why she didn't volunteer to go to your house. She thought you'd still be mad at her."

"She f-farted," Terry croaked.

Sookie jerked her head toward him. "Excuse me?"

"S-she farted while we w-were havin' y-you-know-what. I t-tried to t-tell her it was no big deal but she wouldn't listen. She s-stormed out b-before I c-could put my p-pants on."

Sookie squirmed in her seat, unsure how to respond.

"Th-that was our b-big fight. Gas. Stupid, s-stupid gas." Terry's shoulders heaved as he sighed deeply. "I l-love her, Sook."

She smiled. "I know."

"If w-we get out o-of here alive -"

"When," she corrected him.

"When we g-get out of h-here alive, I'm g-gonna t-tell her that no amount of s-stink will scare me away. W-we can be g-gross together. Then I'm gonna a-ask h-her to-to marry me."

Sookie settled back to her former position. "Am I invited?"

"'Course you are. Y-you're m-my best man."

Sookie chuckled. "Can I bring a plus one?"

"S-sure, you can b-bring Jason."

"Not Jason!" she laughed. "Jase is more than capable of crashin' your wedding himself."

Terry chortled, it sounded like sandpaper on wood. "You gonna b-bring the doctor?"

"No, not the doctor," Sookie murmured. "I'm bringin' my boyfriend."

Terry tried to whisk his head toward her. "You have a b-boyfriend? How l-long have I b-been stuck here?"

Sookie rolled her eyes at him. "He's not actually my boyfriend. He's just some random guy I picked up on the side of the street."

"N-now you're j-just yankin' my ch-chain."

"Hand to God, Ter," Sookie said, raising her right hand in the air. "He's name's Eric. He's a Yankee."

Terry tsked. "B-Beware of Y-Yankees. They're n-notoriously h-high-maintenance."

"Don't I know it," Sookie said with a slight head shake. "He's kind of a diva actually."

Terry tittered again, which sounded more of a cough now. "How s-so?"

"For starters, he doesn't use a coaster. He drinks straight from a carton; sleeps until noon. And his boxers costs more than I make in tips in a month."

"Y-you've s-seen his b-boxers?" Terry gasped.

"I've washed his boxers."

Terry shook his head. "That's t-true love right t-there."

It was Sookie's turn to shake her head. "Let's not get ahead of ourselves. I told you he's hard to handle. There's probably a Taylor Swift song about him somewhere."

"But y-you like him." It wasn't a question. "Otherwise w-we wouldn't be wastin' precious o-oxygen talkin' about him."

That silenced her for a moment. "Yeah. I like him. He grew on me. He makes me feel safe."

"Safe," Terry echoed. "That's the f-first time I h-heard you say that word."

* * *

 **E/S**

Her hand snaked out to graze the top of his head, hoping she wouldn't rouse him.

His eyelids fluttered as soon as her fingers touched his forehead.

He jolted upright, blinking back the dregs of sleep. He wiped the side of his mouth as his eyes zoomed in on her.

"You're droolin'," she teased, a smile toying with the corner of her lips.

"I'm not!" he said defensively, snatching his hand off her lap.

"Oh yes you are. How else can you explain that map of Texas on my sheets?"

"Oh yeah?" he sneered, leaping on the bed, probably to hide the evidence. Then just as Sookie was about to spew another comeback, he cupped her cheeks with both hands and started rubbing his chin against her cheeks.

"Ew! Eric! Stop!" she shrieked, scrunching her nose and closing her eyes. The rasp of stubble along his jaw was making her skin tingle. It was hard not to giggle as she tried to push him away. But he would have none of her squirming.

"Ew, Miss Stackhouse you're a slobbery mess," he sing-songed. She snapped her mouth shut, overly conscious of her morning breath. As though reading her mind, he pressed his forehead over hers. "And I don't give a single fuck."

She couldn't help but grin, while keeping her lips tightly sealed, her face ablaze.

Eric brushed his lips over hers ever so gently that she almost sighed. "Morning," he hushed.

She sighed. It was hard not to when he was pinning her with his blue eyes. Her hands clamped over his cheeks before she puckered up and gave him an audible smack.

"Don't fart, okay? I'm not sure I'm there yet."

Eric backed away and arched his brow. "You know sometimes I feel like I need google translate to understand you."

She guffawed before she pulled him in and continued what he started.

Maybe this was what Terry meant. Maybe Eric could be her Arlene. Maybe he could be the one she could be gross with. Maybe she liked him more than she cared to admit. Maybe she could tell him her secrets and he wouldn't judge her. Maybe she could be happy with him.

If only he would stay.

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric.**

 **Cheese alert, right? I hope it wasn't too fluffy. We'll get back to more important plot stuff later. I thought they could use a little time to decompress first. Next chapter is EPOV.**

 **I'd like to give a big panda hug to my beta, MsStitcher. She's just the best!**

 **Thank you for another warm reception in the last chapter! Although I had a little scare there when I only saw a handful of friendly faces on the review page. I thought you guys have abandoned me (*teary eyes*). Thank goodness for Star-Moonlight1 who PM'ed me and said her review wasn't showing up. (Blasted FF!) She was such a sweetie!**

 **I haven't had the chance to reply to any reviews, apologies m'loves. I was working on getting this chapter out as fast as I could. I hope that'd make up for my rudeness.**

 **Much love, y'all! I'll try to post soon (-ish)!**


	23. Chapter 23

Eric soon realized it was easier posing as Sookie's fake boyfriend. For starters, a fake boyfriend could be near her without having to worry about the protective brother.

With Jason lurking around, Eric had to keep his distance. Forced to stay in his corner, sneaking glances every now and then, when every bone in his body was tingling with want. Wanting to touch her, kiss her senseless or just be close enough to see the specks of gold in her blue eyes.

Damn. What could have possibly possessed him to agree to this setup? In retrospect it sounded good in theory. They both agreed to keep their not-so-fake relationship on the down low. At least until while she was still in the hospital.

Jason, ironically, seemed to be the most frazzled in the wake of recent events. Sookie's brief disappearance made her brother overly cautious and suspiciously nervous. If Eric didn't know any better he'd say Jason was on coke – and he didn't mean the drink.

The older Stackhouse returned from his quick trip to the farmhouse with all the bare essentials he promised the previous night. Eric promptly changed into a clean pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt. He emerged out of the bathroom, looking mighty fine and minty fresh. He spied her giving him a sideway glance and he couldn't help but give her a wink as he waltzed toward her.

Jason, to Eric's utter delight, had left the room in search for Sookie's attending physician.

"Don't you come near me," she warned, hugging her pillow as a shield.

"Why? Because I'm looking all shiny and new? And you're still…" Eric sing-songed with as much swagger.

She skewered him with a glare. "I suggest you think long and hard how you want to end the sentence, buster. I don't have to remind you who prepares your food."

"She's not kiddin' bubba," Jason interjected lightly as he walked back in. "One time, she let Arlene dye her hair red and I made the mistake of callin' her Elmo. Next thing I knew I was chasin' the toilet. It seemed my sweet li'l sister thought it'd be funny to spike my sweet tea with cayenne pepper."

Eric made a sound between a gasp and laugh. "You did not," he laughed as he gaped at her.

"I was givin' you a master cleanse, you ass," she sniped at Jason.

"Oh, I was cleansed all right," Jason quipped bobbing his head.

Sookie couldn't keep the sly grin off her face as she shook her head. "What did the doctors say? Can I go home now?" she asked, steering the conversation to another direction.

"I got your form." Jason stretched out his hand and gave her a clipboard. "They still insisted to give you a full check up before they can sign you off."

Sookie's face fell as she dropped the pillow on her lap. "How long will that take? They've already taken my dextrose out. I thought I was good to go."

"It won't take long. Sam paid extra to rush your lab tests. The doctor said if everything checks out you'll be outta here this afternoon," Jason appeased his sister before turning to Eric. "Oh, I almost forgot," he handed another clipboard to Eric. "The nurse also gave me this. She said you're askin' for it last night."

Eric swallowed hard as he stared at the ominous piece of paper flailing against the metal clip.

"What's that?" Sookie asked, eyeing him closely.

"Admission form," Jason answered for him. "Eric told the nurse there were some discrepancies in his Shreveport form."

Sookie smiled widely. "Oooh, are we finally goin' to know your real age?" she teased.

If only that was the only thing he was hiding.

He set the clipboard down on the couch behind him as he marched closer to her bed, wedging himself between the siblings.

"Remember the thing you asked me last night?" Eric turned to Sookie.

From the way her eyes twitched slightly, she knew what question he was referring to. Unfortunately, Jason didn't.

"What question?" Jason asked.

"Nothin'," Sookie said quickly, giving Eric a silencing glare. "It's not important. We don't need to talk about it right now."

Eric remained unfazed as he tipped his head to Jason. "Sookie proposed -"

"You proposed?!" Jason blurted, spittle flying out of his mouth. "Goddamit, what the hell happened in that freezer that made you and Terry go batshit!"

"Shut your mouth Jason!" Sookie shushed her brother. "It wasn't that kind of proposal."

"Sookie asked me to stay," Eric chimed in.

"Oh," Jason stupidly said.

"I did. And Eric never gave me an answer," Sookie muttered almost inaudibly, as though she was mortified.

"I couldn't say yes," Eric said gently, his fingers grasping at the hem of her blanket. "Not until I tell you everything."

"It's Sylvie, isn't it?" It wasn't an accusation. It sounded more of a resignation.

"It's not about her. It's not about anyone else but me," Eric said at once only to cast off the gloom on her face. "I'm not who you think I was."

Sookie's head jerked, the crease on her forehead deepening. "What do you mean?"

Eric took a long ragged breath. "My last name isn't Rothman, Sookie. It's Northman."

* * *

 **E/S**

Eric's confession was met with silence.

For a few fleeting minutes no one spoke a word. Jason, who was always so hyperverbal and excitable, was rendered mute. But Jason was the least of Eric's concerns as he locked his gaze on Sookie, who stared at him with unblinking eyes.

"You lied to us?" Her voice was so soft he almost didn't hear her even though he was standing right next to her bed.

"I never meant to," Eric tried to reason. "I didn't know you had my name wrong until-"

"Oh so this was our fault now?" Jason spat.

"No!" Eric shook his head vigorously. "What I meant was -"

"What, Eric? What did you fucking mean?"

"Jason!" Sookie called her brother out. "Let him speak."

Eric gave Sookie a small nod of thanks. Her gaze remained hard though as she asked, "Why did you wait this long to tell us?"

"Because it was convenient at the time," Eric explained.

Sookie flinched backward as she bit her lip and looked away. Fuck. He never should have said convenient. He wanted to take it back as soon as it came out of his mouth.

"Convenient?" Jason fired up. "For you maybe, because it sure as hell ain't convenient for me. Dammit Eric, I vouched for you at the Sheriff's office. I basic'lly helped you falsify public document. I may not know a lot, but I know that that right there is a felony."

"I know, Jason. And I'm sorry. I'll clear everything up with Deputy Fortenberry. I will own up to my mistake, I promise."

"I don't understand, Eric," Sookie hushed. "Why would you do somethin' this stupid?"

Eric grabbed the base of his skull and shook his head. "I thought - I thought I could fix it. The mess in New York… I thought I could make it go away."

"You meant the embezzlement?" Jason asked. "But you said you had nothin' to do with that."

"And I meant it. I may be a liar but I'm not a thief," Eric said with renewed conviction.

Jason and Sookie regarded him silently. "Then why did you lie?" Sookie was the one to ask. Her piercing blue eyes held so many questions. So much pain.

"I was trying to save my company," was all he could say.

"Save it how?" Jason prodded as he started dragging his feet to burn circles on the floor.

"We're a stock insurance firm. Clients should be able to trust us. If word gets out that someone from the inside had managed to dupe us, wipe us clean, it would be game over. Our firm would be buried so deep in the ground before anyone could prove my innocence."

"If you're innocent then why don't you just clear your name?" Jason queried, looking more and more confused.

While the male Stackhouse was clearly tensed and frantic, Sookie was quiet and pensive as she wrung her hands together, brows furrowed. Eric wanted to reach out to her and grab her hands, tell her sorry, that he never meant to betray her trust. That he cared for her too much to hurt her in any way.

Eric felt his stomach tense as he steeled himself for the hard part. "I needed plausible deniability. I couldn't let the FBI drag my name into this. If -"

"Wait- FBI? You mean the fucking Bureau of Investigation?" Jason blurted, his pacing halted abruptly.

Eric could only nod his assent.

"Holy shit," Jason exhaled, collapsing on the foot of Sookie's bed. "What have you gotten yourself into, man?"

Eric would need a thesaurus to find a synonym for deep shit.

"You said you couldn't let the feds drag your name, what does that mean?" Jason resumed his inquisition.

"Eric's not just a pawn," Sookie finally broke her silence.

"What?" Jason looked at his sister.

"Why don't you tell us Eric, what's the name of the insurance firm?"

Eric had to expel a breath before he uttered, "Northman Cap."

Sookie smiled sadly. "That's what I thought," she murmured before facing her brother. "You see Jason, it's like a game of chess. No one moves without the king."

* * *

 **E/S**

There was nothing left to say. Sookie's simple analogy seemed to have summed up everything.

Jason took a few minutes to gather his thoughts before he excused himself to phone Deputy Fortenberry. Eric made no objection, while Sookie simply bobbed her head.

As soon as Jason left the room, Eric sprang out of the couch to approach the bed.

"Sookie..."

"What else did you lie about?" she cut him off, jerking her head toward him. "Godric. Sylvie. Are they real?"

"Yes," he murmured. "I only lied about my last name. The rest is true."

"Why should I believe you?" The look she was giving him could cut him in half.

"I have nothing to gain and everything to lose by telling you the truth."

"If you're all about calculated risk, then why're you tellin' me this now?"

Eric held her gaze firmly. "I think you know why."

"I'm not a fuckin' telepath, Eric!" she screamed. "I can't read your mind. I don't know what the hell is goin' on in that stupid head of yours."

"Damn it, Sookie. Do I really need to say it out loud? I like you!" he volleyed back, slamming his palms on the side of the bed making her jolt. He inched closer before he spoke again, this time his voice was softer, tender and pained at the same time. "I like you. I like the way your cheeks turn red every time I call you lover. I like sleeping in the room next to yours knowing there's only a thin wall between us. I like the smell of lilacs in the bathroom after you take a shower. I like our midnight talks. I like listening to stories about you because I wanna know all the crazy things you've done. I like you, Sookie. That's why I want you to know the real me - to actually _like_ the real me. Because I want _us_ to be real."

He lifted her chin with his thumb to see the pools of tears rimming her eyes. "I'm still Eric. _Your_ Eric. And I want to stay here with you if you'll still have me."

Her lips parted encouragingly. He couldn't stop the sigh that escaped him as he lowered his head, ready to kiss her. His lips barely grazed hers when someone rapped on the door.

Sookie squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head out of his grasp as though she just freed herself out of a spell.

"Miss Stackhouse?" asked the nurse, who was carrying a plastic tray, as she barged in. "Oh garsh, I thought you were alone."

Sookie waved the attendant in as Eric stepped back. "Please. Come in."

The nurse put her tray, which was filled with sterile plastic tubes with rubber caps in a metal wire rack, tourniquet, gauze pads and a couple of syringes, on top of the rolling overbed table.

"Can I stay?" Eric wasn't asking the nurse.

"Sure thing. I'm just gonna collect blood sample for toxicology to rule out any bacterial infection," the nurse replied without looking at Eric as she snapped on her rubber gloves.

"No. He can't," Sookie murmured as she stuck out her arm to the nurse. "He can't stay."

As easy as that, Eric got his answer.

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric.**

 **I wanted to post this earlier but FF had been having glitches recently - either I couldn't edit from doc manager or I simply couldn't log in to my account. It was darn frustrating.**

 **RedJane suggested Archive of our own (AO3) and I might just give that a shot if FF keeps shutting me out. I'm going to have a few days off before the weekend, I'll try to fix my dormant WP site for backup too (fingers crossed!).**

 **For now, let me thank you guys for sticking around and leaving comments or just letting me know you still care (I'm looking at you, TB Eric-Sookie always85, Star-Moonlight1, kleannhouse and MsNorthman! Love you gals!)**

 **Of course, this chapter wouldn't even be possible if not for my lovely beta MsStitcher! Hugs all day!**

 **Thank you for reading. And hopefully you'll let me know what you think. No flames, please. Love y'all!**


	24. Chapter 24

Sookie stared blankly at the bathroom mirror, her palm flat against her bare stomach, trying to trace the scar that was no longer there.

Time heals all wounds, they say. Scars fade in time. And if they didn't, well, there's always plastic surgery.

No one should be defined by their past. Not even when the past was carved in your own flesh. Gran, optimist to a fault, had used up every penny she had to make them forget when she spirited them away to New Orleans. Titanium leg for Jason, laser treatment for her and therapy for both.

Jason didn't like the artificial limb and he made no effort to hide his dismay. Therapy didn't pan out either – none of them were thrilled to relive the horror of that fateful night. At least the laser treatment worked, Gran kept going on and on how perfect Sookie's skin looked.

 _Perfect_. Sookie didn't have the heart to tell her grandmother that she would never be perfect again.

No matter how hard they tried to erase the evidence, it would still be there. The jagged lines that formed a 'W' on her abdomen would always be there even if no one could see it. It stood for 'whore', because that's what _he_ called her. A whore who kissed the black boy. Seven minutes in heaven that turned into a lifetime of hell.

' _I will make sure no one else will – and can – love you,'_ he hissed as his hunting knife sliced the skin of her stomach. _'I will break you, Sookie. 'Cos no one likes a broken toy.'_

Those were his last words. If only there was something she could do to erase her memory of him.

Sookie pulled her shirt down and doused her face with cold water. When she came out of the bathroom, Jason was there on the couch, his phone wedged between his ear and his shoulder as he shoved Eric's used clothes in the varsity bag he brought earlier that day.

"I'll see you then," Jason murmured to the cell as he let his phone slide down to the couch.

"Who's that?" she inquired as she marched back to the bed.

Jason zipped the bag shut and set it down on the floor before taking his seat on the tiny sofa. "Alcide. The hospital notified him about the discrepancies on Eric's form. He's on his way here. He wants to know the whole story."

Sookie sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing the hem of her denim skirt. "He's pissed?"

Jason bobbed his head. "It's a good thing Eric's gone. We know there ain't no love lost between those two."

Sookie had nothing to add to that.

"Eric can't stay with us," Jason said after a few moments of silence.

Sookie's head shot up to look at her brother. "Where will he go?" she asked, her voice a few octaves higher.

"I think he's more than capable to find his own way. He can't stay with us. I don't care if he's innocent or not. I'm not gonna wait for the fuckin' FBI to go bangin' on our doors for helping a felon."

"He's not a felon."

"Jesus Christ, Sook. Can you hear yourself? We know nothin' about him. What makes you so sure he ain't keepin' anythin' else from us?"

Sookie scoffed. "Aren't you bein' a tad hypocritical, Jase?"

Jason's eyes rounded, his lips curling into a snarl. "What the hell does that mean?"

Sookie stared pointedly at Jason's leg. "We all have secrets."

She didn't know why she said it. Was it to antagonize Jason or to simply to state the obvious? Either way it didn't sit well with her brother whose face instantly darkened.

"You've really lost your mind," Jason spat in disgust, rising shakily to his feet. "After everythin' we've been through have you learned nothin' at all?"

Sookie gritted her teeth as she locked her eyes with her brother who was limping toward her. "Don't you fucking go there, Jason."

"Tell me, was it his dreamy blue eyes or his Yankee swagger? We both know you've always had a soft spot for bad boys."

Her arm swung as her palm landed on Jason's cheek with a resounding thwack.

Jason staggered sideways and reached for the edge of the bedside drawer to steady himself. Sookie's hand clapped over her mouth, shocked at her violent reaction.

She had never physically attacked her brother before. Not even when he was lashing out on her after the amputation. He was her protector and even at their worst they knew they were a team. Forever and always.

Jason rubbed the side of his face.

Sookie reached out to touch his ruddy cheek but Jason turned sharply and backpedalled away from her.

"Jason…"

The older Stackhouse skewered her with a glare. "If you like Eric so much then why don't you tell him I lost my leg because of your fuckin' mistake."

With that Jason scampered out of the room and slammed the door hard behind him.

* * *

 **E/S**

Alone in bed, Sookie felt lost. The silence was too deafening, the solitary was too suffocating, the guilt was overwhelming.

Jason had every right to lash out on her. It was her stupid mistake that set off the events of the 'incident'.

How many times had she been deceived? Manipulated? She stopped counting after she ran out of fingers.

Now, this.

Another man sauntered into their lives with yet another secret.

Maybe it would be best if Eric would just go back to New York. He had lied to her because he was hiding from the FBI, which threatened to burn his business to the ground. That was that, everything else was merely flotsam. The deception wasn't personal. He didn't do it to hurt her. At least that was what he claimed.

Oh, God. She should have known.

She should have known something was amiss. That the proverbial shoe would drop. She was too happy. That should have terrified her. That should have set off some sort of alarm in her head.

Jason was right. She was supposed to be smarter than this. Maybe she did need that head CT the doctors suggested yesterday because clearly there was something wrong with her head. Gran used to say: betrayal isn't betrayal unless it's done by someone you care about.

The betrayal wasn't catastrophic this time but it struck home. Perhaps, it was because she trusted him. Apparently, Eric never trusted her.

Damn. She thought she got it right. This time, she thought love would be kind.

Love? Was that too far a reach to say she loved Eric? She had known him for less than a week. Was that enough time to really know someone? She, of all people, should have known better. Even a lifetime wasn't nearly enough to know someone completely. And that love could easily turn into a deadly obsession.

She was pulled out of her wallowing when the door burst open again. Her head instantly followed the sound hoping it would be Jason.

Or Eric.

"Guess who got the wi-fi password to the nurses' station," Tara sing-songed as she stormed in the room, her fingers dancing across the screen of her mobile phone.

Tara wasn't the kind to sneak up stealthily on someone. She would run her mouth before she could open the door to let everyone know she was coming. She liked that about Tara. She was the storm to Sookie's calm.

Tara and Sam had arrived in the hospital a few hours ago. Eric took it upon himself to explain everything to them, assuming it would only be a matter of time before they found out about his unusual predicament. Sam then offered to give Eric a ride to the Sheriff's office to speak to Hoyt while Tara stayed behind to keep her company until she was ready to be discharged.

"I found him!" Tara continued as she squeezed in the bed with Sookie, putting her feet up and crossing her legs.

"Here, here. He was in the 2010 Forbes' 30 Under 30 list in finance. _'Eric Northman, 27, pulled a Lazarus when he reinvented himself and joined one of the largest private equity firms in the country. Having suffered a huge setback after the recession, Northman resurrected his career and saw the opportunity in Southeast Asia's textile industry.'_ "

Tara waved her phone to Sookie. "I didn't think it was possible, but damn, Eric in a leather jacket is _muy caliente_!"

Sookie brushed Tara's hand away. She didn't want to be reminded of Eric's other life.

Tara merely shrugged as continued digging up Eric's digital footprint on her mobile. "I don't see a Facebook page," she mumbled. "What kind of person doesn't have an FB account? Do you know his Twitter handle? He's gotta be on Twitter."

Sookie stayed mum.

"Wait, wait, I think I got somethin'," Tara said excitedly, "Jackpot!" She held the phone up to Sookie to show images of a man in a tuxedo. Tara didn't have to zoom out the pictures for Sookie to discern they were all photos of Eric. "Says here, it's a young entrepreneur's gala. Yowza! Y'know I never thought I'd ever respect a guy in a penguin suit but, Holy Moses, I was wrong. Guy knows how to work a fuckin' tux. Respect. Look!"

Sookie pushed Tara's hand down. "Tara..."

Tara arched her brow and gave Sookie a look. "What the hell are you sulkin' about?"

Sookie offered no response.

Tara stuck her phone between her thighs and said, "Okay. So he lied, big whoop. News flash, Sook, everybody lies. Just think of it this way: you've been catfished. Instead of bein' conned by a middle-aged balding guy with a pot belly in a rat-infested apartment, you got a six-foot-two Adonis who owns a penthouse in Manhattan. I dunno about you bitch, but for me that's a fuckin' win."

"This isn't a game, Tar," Sookie finally admitted. "I'm not tryin' to hook a big fish. I just want my Eric. And that guy, the guy who wears tuxedos and leather jackets with the shiny smile isn't my Eric. My Eric wears plaid shirts and track suits. He doesn't go to fancy dinner parties. He eats cake with his fingers and likes long conversations. That, right there isn't my Eric."

" _Your_ Eric?"

Sookie could feel herself turning red. "You know what I mean."

Tara crossed her arms and cocked her head. "What's really buggin' the shit outta you? Is it the lyin' or is it because you found out Eric has a life you couldn't see yourself in?"

Tara's question hit pay dirt. Her friend had voiced out what Sookie couldn't say out loud.

"D'you remember what I asked you when you said you wanna go to med school?"

Sookie looked down at her lap. "If I'd still like Alcide if he weren't a doctor."

"And what did you say?"

"Yes. Because then I wouldn't have to try so hard to reach him."

Tara's shoulders drooped as she scooped up Sookie's hand. "You always do this to yourself, Sook. You assume you're not good enough for the men you like. Don't undersell yourself. I think the reason you're drawn to these ass-kickin' guys is because you know, deep inside, that you deserve them and that you'd be a fool to settle for anythin' less." She elbowed Sookie's arm. "You're my best friend. I've seen you at your best and worst. I know where your warts are and I'm tellin' you they're not as nasty as you think. I may be biased here because you're my bitch but you're a fuckin' unicorn, Sook. You're perfect."

Sookie closed her eyes and let the tears slide down her cheeks.

"I'm not perfect," Sookie hushed as jutted her chin up to meet her friend's gaze. "I'm broken, Tara. No one likes a broken toy."

"What're you talkin' about?"

"Do you wanna know what really happened the night Jason lost his leg?"

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric. Or TB and any other characters from the show. But mainly Eric. (Damn shame)**

 **I'm not a tease. Maybe just a little. But bear with me, please bear with me. There're still so much to discuss here. One chapter at a time, okay loves?**

 **Anyhoo, if you're following me on WP (eys1214 . word press . com) you've probably been bombarded by an avalanche of emails from yours truly as I update my fan fictions on the site. Apologies for that, that nifty 'delete' button will be of great service to those who have already read most of the stories I'm publishing such as Dead Man's Hand and Chasing Shadows. For some who haven't heard that I've written another fic under a different pen name here on FF, you can find all chapters for Chasing Shadows on my WP site. (*ends shameless plugging*)**

 **Because I plan to have WP as my primary site, I'm offering some sort of a bribe to the kind people who will follow me there. After this chapter, while I will still post updates here on FF, I will be posting a day ahead on WP. (*wink*)**

 **Thank you, thank you for reading and sticking around and leaving thoughtful comments. You've been very kind.**

 **Last but definitely not the least, thank you to the brilliant MsStitcher! She's the wormtongue to my mad king. (Maybe not the best analogy but you get the idea, LOL!)**


	25. Chapter 25

Eric gazed out the window as Sam sat whistling in the driver's seat of the latter's blue Ford Bronco. It was probably a sixties model, it certainly smelled and groaned like it.

"You okay there, bubba?"

Eric peeled his eyes off the scenery and gave Sam a stiff nod. Dr. Ludwig, as it turned out, knew what she was talking about when she warned him that as soon as the adrenaline wore off, the pain would set in. He couldn't tell if the pain was from his injury or Sookie's icy rejection. Both hurt equally bad.

"Thanks for the ride, Sam."

Sam replied with a one-shoulder shrug. "Ain't a big deal. 'Sides it's not every day I get to chauffeur royalty."

"You do know that I'm not really a king, right?" Eric said with a slight shake of his head. "Jason just said that to simplify things."

"Oh but it ain't that simple, is it?"

Eric said nothing.

"What's buggin' you? You look like you haven't taken a proper dump in days."

That would be one way to put it. He wished he was merely constipated.

"It's the opposite actually. I got nothing left," Eric murmured, getting the ball rolling for his pity party.

"Oh hell, if you have nothin' left then I'd best be off drinkin' bleach and callin' it a day." Sam grinned at him. Eric wished he could do the same. "Aw, c'mon, man. Cheer the fuck up."

Eric's face remained blank.

"Okay," Sam sighed. "What's the worst that could happen? Are you lookin' at jail time?"

Eric shook his head and turned his eyes back to the window. "Jail time isn't an option." He had top calibre lawyers on retainer to make sure that wouldn't happen. "We were supposed to go public in less than a week. If the Feds step in, they'll launch a federal investigation. Our 'dirty laundry' will be aired out for everyone to see and make fun of. Our investors will pull out their stocks. Even if the FBI retrieves the stolen funds before we go public, our IPO will still be exponentially decimated. No one in his right mind would invest in an insurance firm that could easily be breached. If that happens we'll be lucky to get Chapter 11."

"So, in a way, you're like me."

Eric almost laughed at the irony. "I suppose I am." In Sam's case he was more Chapter 7.

"D'you wanna trade places?" Sam joked.

"You don't wanna trade places with me, Sam. For one, I'm almost as broke as you. The Feds have frozen my assets. I'm poor, poor."

"Oh please. Spare me your champagne problems. At least you have assets. The only assets I have are the frozen patties in my freezer, do you hear me complain?" Sam smiled then sighed. "I know how hard it is to let go of somethin' you worked so hard for. But after what happened last night…" Sam took another deep breath. "What happened last night put things in perspective for me. I almost lost two of my best friends. Arlene said Terry went in early yesterday hopin' to fix the walk-in to save me a few bucks. I haven't talked to Sookie but I'm willin' to bet my last dollar she went in there with the same agenda. I never would've forgiven myself if-"

"They're okay," Eric cut him off. He didn't like where Sam was going with it. "They're okay," he repeated, more to himself than to Sam.

"They are," Sam agreed, bobbing his head. "That's why I've decided to close up shop for good."

"You are?" Eric asked. Sam answered with another series of nods. "What're you goin' to do next?"

"I dunno. Maybe I'll go back to Memphis, or maybe follow Tommy in Nashville. It depends on Tara."

"You're taking her with you?"

"I'll be a fool to let that woman go. She's my fuckin' rock."

"But isn't Bon Temps her home?"

"Home isn't where you're born and raised, my friend. It's the place where you find a purpose."

"Hallmark?"

"Pinterest."

Eric smiled.

"'Sides if all else fails, we can always apply in Burger King," Sam quipped with a wink.

Sam made a quick turn to the parking lot behind the Sheriff's office and hit the brake.

Eric chuckled while shaking his head. "I'm not sure I'll be good at flipping buns."

"Don't worry, with your buns, there's always prostitution. I can be your pimp."

They shared a hearty laugh as Sam leapt out of the driver's seat and Eric followed suit. As they marched toward the entrance, someone beckoned them from behind.

"Sam! Eric! Right here!"

It was Deputy Fortenberry leaning against an old, light blue Buick, wearing a brown flannel shirt and stone wash jeans. This was the first time Eric saw the deputy in plain clothes and it felt oddly unsettling.

Sam and Eric made their way toward the deputy.

"Sam," Deputy Fortenberry greeted Eric's companion with a fist bump and a friendly tap on the shoulder. "I heard Sheriff's lookin' for you."

Sam grimaced and they both laughed.

"Eric," the deputy turned to him. "How's your injury, bud?"

He called him 'bud', that might be a good sign.

"I've been better," Eric replied, ignoring the throbbing of his wound.

"Do you think you're okay to go on a road trip?"

Eric and Sam exchanged a look. "Where?" Eric asked.

"Boyce."

"What's in Boyce?" Sam queried.

"Patek Philippe."

Eric's eyes widened.

"Someone found my watch?"

"Someone tried to _sell_ your watch. Seems like your muggers underestimated its worth, which bode well for the county boys after the pawnshop alerted them of the stolen item. The Rats tried to make a run for it when they sensed something ain't right. It's a good thing the pawnshop was in a strip mall which has CCTV cameras. Caught the plate of their RV on tape. County boys put a BOLO on them and managed to apprehend their sorry asses in Moss Point."

"Hold up. How much _is it_ worth?" Sam asked his brows arched in confusion.

"Roughly around two hundred fifty," the deputy supplied with a shrug, trying to sound nonchalant.

Sam almost choked on his own spit as his eyes bulged out. "You have a quarter-of-a-million-dollar-worth watch?!"

"It was a gift from my brother."

"Does your brother need a best friend?"

"He's dead."

"Oh." Sam looked mortified as he scratched the back of his head. "Sorry bud."

"The good news is I have a buddy in Boyce Substation. She'll arrange the retrieval of your watch along with your wallet. The bad news is you'll have to provide authentic identification, which means you'll also be alerting the FBI that you're in the great state of Louisiana."

Eric merely shrugged. The FBI would find him sooner or later. At least now, he was ready for them. The only thing he was concerned about was the amount of time this trip would take.

"Shall we then?" Deputy Fortenberry asked as he pulled the Buick's driver's door. "It's my day off so can't take the cruiser. We'll have to settle for Momma's car, I hope that's okay."

Eric could not believe these people. They were doing him a favor and they act as though they were beholden to him.

"Is there room for one more?" Sam inquired before Eric could reply.

"You're comin' with us?"

"This might be my only chance to see a Patek Philippe," Sam jested as he circled to passenger seat without waiting for permission. "Eric. What're you standin' there for man? Move your buns!"

Eric didn't move anything.

Deputy Fortenberry, who seemed to have read his mind, patted him on the shoulder.

"Jase knows we're goin' to Boyce, I'm sure he'll tell Sook. But if it'll put your mind at ease, feel free to call her first."

Eric dug for his cell in his jeans' front pocket only to find it empty. He suddenly remembered leaving it on top of the sink in the hospital bathroom after he changed that morning. He reached for his other pocket and felt Sylvie's ring. He wished he had forgotten the ring instead.

"I left my phone in the hospital," he said meekly.

"You can use mine," the deputy offered, already digging for his cell in his back pocket.

Eric shook his head. He wasn't certain Sookie would be thrilled to hear from him right now. Perhaps this road trip would benefit both of them. At least for now.

* * *

 **E/S**

The drive took almost three hours. Three hours filled with country songs and small talk about women, weather, women, beer, sports, and had he mentioned women? If there were a Bechdel test for men, Sam and Hoyt would fail miserably.

In the span of two hours and forty-four minutes – yes, he timed it through the dashboard clock – both men in the front seats always found ways to drop the names of either Tara or Jessica - or Jess, as the deputy so fondly called her lady love ( _Oh God, did I just say lady love?_ ) – in their conversation.

They tried to engage Eric too. But he wasn't the sharing type. Especially when the girl in question was one of their oldest friends.

They asked if he had a girl in New York, which he answered with a shake of the head. It wasn't a lie because Sylvie wasn't his fiancee anymore when he landed in Louisiana. He could sense that both men wanted to drop a certain name, one that rhymed with cookie, but they were either too polite or too scared to tread that particular mine field.

So Sam continued to hum out of tune to fill the occasional silence while the deputy kept his eyes on the road. Eric, on the other hand, practiced his acquired skill of pretending to sleep in the backseat.

Two hours and forty-four minutes later they arrived at their destination. He must have dozed off for real in the last half hour because he was jolted awake when Sam tapped his knee.

"We're here," the deputy announced when Eric opened his eyes. He rubbed his chin, mindful of Sookie's 'drooling' allegation.

They were parked in front of an old red brick office. Sam was already unbuckling his seatbelt while the deputy's hands never left the steering wheel. He noted that Hoyt hadn't turned off the engine, which was confusing. Were Eric and Sam supposed to disembark as Hoyt parked elsewhere?

"Look for Deputy Kenya Jones, she's expectin' you. Use the main entrance, they hate it when civilians stroll in through the staff door. Sam'll gimme a call when it's time to pick you guys up," Hoyt said looking directly at Eric in the rear-view mirror.

"You're not coming in with us?"

"I'm off the clock, remember?" the deputy answered as though that would be enough to clear the confusion. When Eric didn't offer a response nor made a move to leave the car, Hoyt sighed. "I've been here a few times - enough for the guys to remember me - damn my striking resemblance to Jason Bourne."

Sam rolled his eyes at that and shook his head.

"I go inside with you and they'll know you're stayin' in Bon Temps. You said the G-men are lookin' for you. I say let's make 'em break a sweat," Deputy Fortenberry punctuated his explanation with a conspiratorial wink.

"Why're doing this for me?" Eric couldn't help but ask.

Hoyt turned his head around to face Eric. "I'm an only child, Eric. Sookie and Jason are the closest I have to siblings. And last night, you saved my sister. This is me havin' your back."

Eric couldn't find the right words to utter. 'Thank you' didn't seem good enough.

* * *

 **E/S**

Try to blend in, was the last piece of advice Deputy Fortenberry gave them before he sped off.

Eric wanted to say that he tried. But as soon as he walked in all eyes seemed to land on them – specifically on him.

"So much for blendin' in," Sam muttered under his breath.

Fortunately for them, a young African-American woman in a tan Sheriff's uniform marched over to them, grinning from ear to ear. "Sammy?" she asked a little too giddy.

"Officer Jones." Sam tipped his head seriously to the woman with high cheekbones and big brown eyes. Eric almost wondered if Sam would genuflect.

They shook hands a bit longer than necessary before the officer diverted his attention to Eric.

"You must be Mister Northman?" she asked.

"Yes, ma'am," Eric answered earnestly.

She gave him a quick once-over before she nudged her head toward the back of the office. "Follow me," she beckoned.

Eric and Sam did as they were told as they tailed the deputy silently, ignoring the curious looks from the other officers in the room. She made a quick stop in one of the desks and rummaged through the pile of thick manila folders until she found what she was looking for. One of the deputies – the one seated on the opposite side of the desk – nudged his chin toward them as if to ask 'who are these clowns?'

"Rats' victim making a claim." Deputy Jones replied succinctly.

That seemed to satisfy the inquiring officer as he went back to his own mountain of paperwork.

They were ushered inside what Eric suspected was an interrogation room with the single metal table, which had a metal hook in the middle - he supposed was designed to hold handcuffs, and four matching chairs, two on both sides. Eric could only hope he picked the right side to sit in.

The officer pushed the paper in front of Eric along with a pen. "Fill in this form," she ordered, "with your real name this time."

Eric's head jerked toward the officer nervously only to find her grinning mischievously.

"Relax. It's only for our record. I won't run your name through the database. If you happen to be a serial killer, I trust Hoyt has enough bullets to put you down." She made her way to the door. "You fellas want coffee?"

Sam nodded while Eric shook his head.

"Cream with dangerous sugar?" the officer asked Sam.

Sam smiled timidly. "Like always."

The officer exited without another word.

"Sammy?" Eric hummed Sam teasingly. "Do I need to get a separate room?"

"Oh shut your mouth."

"Is that why you were so eager to tag along?"

"I swear Eric if you don't shut your trap, I'mma call the Feds myself."

Eric laughed. "Man, you sure have a type."

"Don't you have a form to fill?"

Eric shrugged. "I can multitask."

"Fine," Sam threw his hands in the hair. "We used to date like five years ago, long before I met Tara."

"Then she dumped you."

"It was a mutual break-up, okay? We decided it was for the best when she got in the Academy."

Eric stopped writing. "Wait- FBI Academy?"

Sam nodded slowly. "She lasted three weeks before she got kicked out. Of course, she cried foul. Said she was treated poorly because she didn't have a dick and she was born with a deep tan. I dunno. Let's just say you and Kenya share the same level of fondness toward the FBI. She returned to Louisiana after Quantico but she didn't go back to Bon Temps. She was too damn proud. She moved here in Boyce instead. Never saw her again until, well, today."

"You still like her?"

"I dunno. It ain't like Facebook where you can just hit a button and unlike somethin'."

"You have Tara," Eric reminded him.

"I _love_ Tara. This is just like findin' your childhood blankie givin' you that soft, warm feelin' in your belly. Tara… Tara's - diff'rent."

Eric felt something inside him twitch. Was Sylvie an old security blanket? Something that helped him sleep better during the tough nights? Wow, he sure knew how to elevate his douchebaggery to an art.

Deputy Jones returned with a brown envelope and a cup of piping hot coffee. Eric knew it was hot because Sam almost spat his first sip after he scalded his tongue. Perhaps it was the deputy's way of getting back at him for comparing her to a childhood blankie. Eric glanced around the room suddenly suspicious of any cameras or microphones hidden in the four corners of the room.

Two male uniformed officers walked in behind Deputy Jones, carrying two medium-sized brown boxes and placed them on the floor by the wall.

"These are all the things we found inside the trailer. There used to be four. Other vics already came in yesterday to collect their belongings," Officer Jones said. "Everything's been bagged and tagged. I dunno which belongs to you so feel free to dig in, just don't destroy anything."

Deputy Kenya pulled up a chair in front of them as the other officers left the room. She then plucked two zip lock bags from the envelope and laid them on the table. In one of the bags was Eric's criminally expensive timepiece and in the other was his black leather wallet.

"I believe these belong to you," she said before making the bags skate toward him. "We took the liberty of running the serial number of the watch. Your name came up. You had it re-valued last year when you renewed the insurance. That's how we found out how pricey that darned thing was. Gotta say, if I have a watch like that, well, those perps would have to chop off my hand to get it from me."

 _Wait till you see the rock in my pocket_ , Eric thought. He bled for that one.

Eric opened the zip lock with his wallet and flipped it open. To his shock, there was still money left - four, five hundred in large bills.

"They didn't take the money?" Sam asked, peeking at the wallet over Eric's shoulder.

"Large bills, especially hundred-dollar bills are easier to trace. Best guess, they're gonna try to launder it later, maybe in a casino or a strip club," Deputy Jones replied.

All his cards were accounted for, including his driver's license. He thanked Deputy Jones before he slipped off his chair and hunkered down to the floor to plough through the Rats' sequestered loot.

He quickly found his backpack, also inside a ziplock bag and tagged 'Bag Number 3.' Like the bags carrying his wallet and watch, there was memo sticker on the outside with the description of the bag's contents - black leather knapsack, (3) plain t-shirts (1 gray, 2 black), (2) pairs of jeans, (3) underpants and (1) toiletry bag with electric toothbrush and shaving kit.

That seemed about right. He wasn't a fussy dresser and he liked travelling light, besides this trip was supposed to be nothing but a weekend bender.

He placed the backpack on the table as he moved on to inspect the rest of the boxes. The contents of the other two boxes were mostly the same – bags and wallets. No electronic device, which stumped him.

"Is there a problem?" Officer Jones peeled herself off her chair and crouched beside him.

"I can't seem to find my phone and tablet."

"They took your phone?" she asked, a mix of surprise and confusion laced in her tone.

"And iPad."

"That's odd," the deputy murmured.

"Why?" Sam asked behind them.

"They don't take mobile devices. It's not part of their M.O." Deputy Jones straightened up. "One of the vics in New Orleans even included that in her report. She was at knife point when she offered them her iPhone. One of the muggers declined and laughed at her, sayin' they're not stupid enough to take somethin' that'll help the cops find them. Which was actually understandable considering most cell phones have tracking apps these days."

"Maybe they threw it away," Sam theorized.

Eric shook his head, rising to his full height. "I remember one of them getting my phone from my pocket and tossing it to the ground where his partner picked it up."

"Perhaps they didn't want you to call nine-one-one as soon as they left. So they took it to buy them time then disposed it along with the tablet when they ran out of Dodge," the deputy supplied her own conclusion.

That seemed plausible but Eric wasn't entirely convinced. Something didn't feel right here.

"Are they still in custody?" Eric asked the officer.

"Yeah, they're in the holding cell until we can finish with all the reports and make official charges."

"Is there a way I can speak to them?"

"Whoa! Hold it right there tiger, this ain't what Hoyt and I agreed on. What're you plannin' to do, rough them up?"

"Course not. They're not worth the effort." Eric flashed his most charming smile. "I just want to ask them a few questions. My watch might be worth hundreds of thousands but in the hands of a skilled hacker my phone and tablet are worth double."

"Holy shit," Sam gasped behind them.

Deputy Jones became pensive for a moment as she gnawed at her bottom lip. Finally she tilted her head upward and said, "Okay. You can have 10 minutes with one of them."

Before she could exit the room, Eric hastily asked, "Can you get the one who calls himself D?"

If his recollection served him right, Mugger D was the one who stabbed him.

"You mean Dennis?"

"Yeah that's the one."

"Why?"

"He sounded smarter," Eric lied. He preferred D or Dennis because Eric had more leverage against him. He'd be easier to scare.

If Deputy Jones doubted his motives she kept it to herself as she walked out of the room and left Eric and Sam alone in the room full of the Rats' bounty.

Half an hour later, she strolled back in with a handcuffed man, donning dark jeans and black shirt. Even without the ski mask Eric could tell from the rancid smell of body odor wafting off of him that he was the lowlife he had the misfortune of bumping into in Shreveport a few nights ago. The officer sat the perpetrator down and looped his handcuffs around the metal bar in the middle of the table before she took her post by the door, arms crossed, face blank.

"Do you remember me?" Eric started the ball rolling.

The man looked up and scowled. As he stretched his neck, the 'Black Mamba' tattoo scrawled along the length of his neck came to view.

"Am I s'pposed to?"

Eric rose from his chair. Out of the corner of his eye, he spied the lone deputy stiffen at his sudden movement. Slowly, Eric pulled the hem of his shirt to reveal the patch of gauze covering his wound.

"Maybe this'll jog your memory."

The man's eyes twitch as his cuffs rattled against the table. "Ah, fuck," he murmured under his breath.

"I'll take that as a yes." Eric released his shirt and sat back down. "You see, _D_ , you have two choices here. You tell me where you disposed my phone and tablet and if your answer satisfies me, I'll maybe let this one slide."

"That was self defense!" the man squealed.

"You attacked me, asshole. You don't get to play the victim card. Self defense flew out the window the second you pointed your knife in my back," Eric said calmly as he steepled his fingers. "Which brings us to option two. If you don't tell me what I want to know, I'll double down on you with aggravated assault."

The man was in total panic now, his wide eyes oscillating from Eric to the deputy, who was quietly standing guard.

"It was an accident!" the man pealed. The mugger spewed a few incoherent expletives as he stared at his bound hands. Eric kept his face impassive as he said a silent prayer that Dennis Rattray wouldn't have enough wit to lawyer up.

God must have heard Eric's pleas as the mumbling mugger cocked his head and inhaled deeply. "We were out of the game. We're retired for fuck's sake. We're not even s'pposed to be in Louisiana if it ain't for that bitch."

Eric stiffened. "What're you talking about?"

"You're the mark, Eric Northman," Dennis Rattray spat out. "You're the fuckin' reason we went to Louisiana. If it ain't for you we'd still be in Dallas."

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric. Or any characters from True Blood and the SVM Universe.**

 **Sorry for the delay, you guys. RL held me hostage. For those who want the continuation of the last chapter, I'm afraid we'll have to leave that up for now as we deal with Eric's clusterf*ck of a life first.**

 **Thank you for reading and hopefully you'll let me know what you think. To everyone who followed me on WP ( eys1214 . word press . com), thank you so much! It tickles my heart knowing I have my own page to share with you.**

 **Last but not the least, a big hug to my rockstar beta MsStitcher! Thank you, angel.**

 **Laters!**


	26. Chapter 26

" _You're the mark, Eric Northman," Dennis Rattray spat out. "You're the fuckin' reason we went to Louisiana. If it ain't for you we'd still be in Dallas."_

Deputy Jones lunged forward, her mask of indifference had already vanished. "You were hired to kill him?"

"Fuck no! We ain't no killers. Told ya t'was an accident," Dennis Rattray defended himself. "You were s'pposed to check in that nasty French motel, the plan was to roofie you, scatter a few Oxy in the room make it look like you were trippin' then get your stuff and bolt."

Sharp needles started to prick Eric's spine as he listened to the mugger's story. He had clearly underestimated just how elaborate the plan was to take him down.

"We waited in your room for hours. When you didn't show, Mac and I decided to do a little snoopin', thought maybe you got lost or somethin'. We got lucky when we found you in that nightclub, Fantasia. We weren't sure it was you so we paid one of the hookers to eavesdrop on you and your buddy in the bar. She said the bartender told her t'was Eric. What're the odds there's more than one Eric Northman in that shithole. So after you decked that fucker with the stupid 'stash and dashed, we followed you."

"How did you know that the guy you saw at the bar was Eric? Did the person who hired you give you description?" Office Jones interjected.

Dennis nodded. "Bitch gave us Mister Northman's full name and description – blond, six-two, blue eyes, stinks of money."

"I need a name, D," the deputy followed-up.

"I don't know her name."

Eric almost blurted: Was it Sandy Seachrest? Fortunately, he was able stop himself from engaging in a twisted game of Jeopardy.

"How did you know her then?" Eric asked.

Dennis looked apprehensive as he peered nervously at Deputy Jones. "I want immunity first."

"You're in no position to make demands," the officer refuted. "In case you haven't noticed, you've already given us enough information to put you in the slammer for a long time. All you can do right now is cooperate and convince us not to throw your ass in the Farm."

Dennis blanched at the threat, the tattoo on his neck rattled as he swallowed thickly.

"Okay, okay." He expelled air through his nose. "Mac and I met her last year in Dallas. We heard there was a rich people summit in one of the hotels."

Eric remembered the summit Dennis was talking about. It was the annual oil convention. He and his core team had been attending the conference for the past couple of years to network, find prospective clients and expand their rolodex.

"We were shakin' up this old fart in the parkin' lot when the bitch came at us with a gun. Mac and I nearly shat in our pants. She was gonna call the cops but the old guy stopped her and offered us a deal instead."

"What kind of deal?" Eric asked.

"A partnership," Dennis said with a shrug. "He said he could get us in - even gave us a list of guests whose pockets were easier to pick. In return, we'd give 'em half of what we make. Of course, we agreed, we're not idiots. Damn, we made a killin' that day. Even with the cut, we made enough to get the Ratmobile." The mugger couldn't help but sneer, which quickly vanished as soon as he saw Deputy Jones arch her brow.

Dennis dropped his gaze and cleared his throat nervously.

"Keep goin'," the officer insisted with a wave of a hand.

"We met her in a bar downtown the next day to split the profit."

Sam, who had been quiet the entire time, butted in. "Wait- you named your RV the Ratmobile?"

The mugger scowled at Sam. "It's fuckin' clever."

"Whatever rocks your boat," Sam drawled.

"Go on, Dennis," Deputy Jones butted in seriously, skewering Sam with a silencing glare.

"That's it. We gave 'em their cut and called it a day."

"Then how was she able to contact you?" Eric prodded.

Dennis lowered his eyes to his shackles as he mumbled, "I… um… gave her my number."

"You gave her your number?" Deputy Jones asked incredulously.

"Hey, I thought we had a connection. 'Sides s'not every day you get to meet a chick who appreciates what we do. Hell, I got a stiffy when I recognized the bitch's voice tellin' us she got a job for us. One time, big time, she said. We just need to roofie some Richie Rich douchebag. Simple grab and dash. That's it. We could keep everythin' we find. All she wanted was the iPad and iPhone." Dennis fisted his hands. "Should've known t'was too good to be true."

"Simple grab and dash?" Deputy Jones scowled. "You call druggin' somebody simple?"

"T'wasn't like we we're gonna rape him."

"Shut up, you buffoon, before I commit police brutality."

"Does she have my tablet and phone now?" Eric interjected.

"Maybe. We mailed it to a P.O. box in Brooklyn three days ago when we were in Nola."

"How much did she pay you?" Eric asked. He wanted to know the currency for souls these days.

"She didn't," Dennis grumbled. "Bitch ripped us off."

Sam snickered out loud. "Guess there really ain't no honor among thieves."

"Maybe she thought what you snatched from Mister Northman would even out the score," Deputy Jones interpolated.

Dennis scoffed. "For that much work? You said it yourself, it ain't that simple."

"You said yourself, _ma'am_. See the badge?" Deputy Jones jabbed her finger at the six-pointed star on her shoulder.

"Sorry, _ma'am_ ," Dennis said, adequately scolded.

"Is that why you didn't spend the money?" she asked.

"We wanted to. Then we heard an old buddy got busted in Nola for using stolen Benjamins."

"So you decided to sell the watch instead?" the officer theorized.

"We weren't gonna sell it. We just wanna have it appraised. Y'know, get the sticker price for..."

"Black-market fence," Eric chimed in, making Dennis flush.

Eric twisted his torso to face Sam. "Can I borrow your phone?"

"Yeah, 'course. Why?" Sam dug inside his pocket and handed Eric his smartphone. It wasn't the most up-to-date iPhone model but it would do the job.

Eric directed his attention back to Dennis. "Will you be able to identify the woman?"

"I dunno," Dennis mumbled.

Eric gave Dennis a hard stare. The mugger turned beet red. Eric diverted his gaze to the phone screen and began typing furiously. It didn't take long before he found what he was searching for. Pam's vanity had finally paid off. His friend was a notorious selfie addict. Even though her Facebook account was set on private, her Instagram wasn't. He scrolled through his best friend's photos until he landed on a specific image. He tapped it with his index finger to enlarge it and showed it to Dennis.

"Is she here?" he asked, pointing out to the picture posted last year when he threw Pam a surprise birthday party in his house in the Hamptons. He had invited most of the administrative staff including, yes, Sandy and Felipe.

It was a group photo – which included him, Felipe, Sandy, Miriam and of course, Pam - where everyone was more than a little tipsy to smile broadly at the camera. Sylvie was in Los Angeles at the time, attending a wine tasting in Napa Valley.

Dennis made a quick peek at the screen before he shook his head. "Too small, can't see the face."

Officer Jones stepped in and extended her hand to Eric. "I can print a larger image."

Eric gave the phone to the deputy. Sam flinched, looking as though he was about to object.

"Don't worry Sammy, I won't go snoopin' for scandalous pictures," the officer quipped before she strolled out, the wicked grin on her face said otherwise.

"What's in it for me?" Dennis blurted as soon as the deputy was out of the room.

Eric cocked his brow. "Aside from the chance to restore my faith in humanity?"

"Fuck humanity. I want immunity." Dennis straightened his back. "Convince your deputy friend that what happened in Dallas would stay in Dallas."

Eric smirked as he let out a snort. "You want a deal?"

"'Course I wanna deal! I gave you everythin' you want."

"Not everything. Not yet."

"Then I guess I'm done. I won't be flappin' my tongue 'nymore unless you cut me and my brother a deal. No jail time, minimum fine and not a word on Dallas."

Eric steepled his fingers. "Do you know what the word 'intent' means? It makes a world of difference in legal terms. The fact that you admitted that you were in my motel room with the clear intention of incapacitating me in order to rob me already lumps you in the same category as murderers."

"We weren't gonna off you!"

"Are you sure? Who's to say the drugs you were going to inject me with wasn't of a lethal dose? What if I happened to be allergic to that particular cocktail? Not only that, you hunted me down. Followed me from Fantasia and stabbed me in the gut. If the people who rescued me hadn't intervened you would've finished me off right there and then."

The mugger opened his mouth to rebut but Eric didn't give him a chance.

"You've already confessed to a series of crimes. So, congratulations, D, you and your brother are no longer petty thieves."

"You said you wouldn't press charges if I cooperate."

"That was before I found out I was a mark."

Dennis's chest deflated, his hands trembling through his cuffs. "I'm not helpin' you no more," he muttered lowly.

"Suit yourself. We can always ask your brother instead."

"Mac won't throw me under the bus."

"You sure about that? Because if my recollection is correct, you were the one who had the knife. Given the option of spending hard time or walking away with minimum fine, are you a hundred percent certain Mac wouldn't sell you out?"

Dennis's left eye twitched. "No wonder people are out to get you," he spat.

Eric leaned in, hands flat on the table. "Do you know who I am, D?" his tone was thick with menace. "I am Eric fucking Northman. Would you like to Google it?"

"I know who you are."

Eric smirked. "Do you know why the people who hired you were working so damn hard to get me out of the picture? Because I'm that big of a threat. Make no mistake, D, I will find them – with or without your help. I will raise seven hells to take back what is mine. And when I do, do you really want to be the idiot who gets caught in that crossfire?"

Dennis's trembled as he stared at Eric before his Adam's apple moved up and down.

As though Eric had timed it perfectly, Deputy Jones waltzed in the interrogation room with the enlarged group photo. She sprawled it on top of the table and took a step back.

"There, can you see it now?" she asked, arms folded in her chest.

"Ye-yes," Dennis croaked.

"And?" The officer waved her hand in a 'spit it out' gesture.

"This one," the mugger stabbed his finger at the other male on the photo and added, "that's the guy in Dallas."

"His name's Felipe De Castro," Eric supplied as the deputy circled Felipe's head with a red sharpie, before writing down his name on her notepad. "And the woman also known as 'the bitch'?"

Sam chortled again then blushed when Deputy Jones gave him a sideway glance.

Eric ignored the subtle flirtation as he watched Dennis lean forward, head bent lower, squinting his eyes. Eric was surprised Dennis took longer to identify Sandy since she was the only brunette in the group.

Finally, Dennis jabbed his finger at the paper one more time. "That one. That's the bitch."

Eric's eyes widened as he swallowed hard. "Are you sure?"

"Sure I'm sure. That's the bitch who screwed us over."

For the first time since Eric walked in the interrogation he felt cold beads of sweat prickling the back of his neck. He blinked fast before zooming in on the face of the woman Dennis was pointing at.

Eric flicked his eyes on Dennis then back at the picture.

"She ain't a blonde when I met her though," the mugger added.

That's when Eric knew Dennis was telling the truth. Because the woman Dennis had identified was a natural brunette. She had only dyed her hair blonde two months ago – after she moved in with Pam.

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric or TB.**

 **Here's the continuation of Eric's road trip. Let me know what you think. Thank you so much for continuing to support this story.**

 **Love, love, love!**

 **Big hugs to MsStitcher who never ceases to be awesome. All mistakes are mine.**


	27. Chapter 27

Pam was never one to cry uncle. Never one to back out from a good fight.

She bled feminism. An unapologetic badass you'd like to have in your corner.

She wasn't always that way though. Once upon a time, Pamela Ravenscroft was a confused, timid woman with no voice.

It all changed in one night, when she met Eric Northman.

Pam met Eric in a frat party in Columbia. He was in his fourth year and Pam was a neophyte. Pam and a couple of her well-connected girl friends were among the lucky freshmen invited to the house. Pam felt the need to impress. She wasn't as popular as her friends. Not the prettiest in the bunch either. But, boy, she had fantastic tits. A flash of her cleavage would make any hot-blooded man do a double-take.

Well, almost everyone.

There was this one guy who wouldn't even glance her way. _Eric Northman_.

Coming from an all-girls' private school, Pam had heard of him. Eric Northman was like the forbidden apple to an island occupied by horny Eves. The corridors and bathrooms were rife with rumors about him. 'Hung yet generous' was the most popular of them all.

Pam was also hounded by scandalous gossips. All jabs at her vanity. From nose job to boob job to butt implants. Turned out, it was easier to point out flaws than accept perfection. Lies as they all were, she was able to shake them off easily. But the slyest jab came in the form of a question: _What's in Pam's closet?_ Perhaps if social media had been epidemic during her high school years, she would have had her own hashtag.

So with that in mind, Pam came up with a solution to silence her critics. She would control her own narrative with the help of a serial womanizer. Dressed for battle in her black body-hugging tube dress and a matching leather jacket, Pam made her move. All night, she shadowed Eric. One time she even dared to ask him to get her a drink. To her dismay, he only smiled at her and said, "I think you've had enough," then walked away.

Frustrated and scorned by the rejection, she went looking for an easier target. Half a bottle of tequila later and she found herself wedged between a wall of cold tiles and a hundred and eighty pounds of solid muscle in an uninspired J. Crew ensemble. His name was Liam or maybe it was Leon, she couldn't be sure after that fifth shot. Liam, or Leon, offered her a tour of the house. Wobbling in her five-inch heels, he led her to a bathroom upstairs. If she were sober she would have cringed at the thought of getting nailed on the floor smattered with frat boys' rogue pubes. But sobriety wouldn't get her anywhere. Pam had to revamp her image. Her agenda might be farcical and pathetic at best but she had made up her mind, she would rather be a slut than a queer.

That's why she didn't protest when Liam, reeking of cigarette and beer, stuck his tongue down her throat while struggling to peel off her jacket. She didn't try to swat his hands when he palmed her ass and flattened her back against the wall. It would be over soon, she kept telling herself. It wasn't as though it was her first time. She had sex with men before. She was confused, remember?

But when Liam's big, meaty hands slithered up to her neck before sliding down to scoop her breasts and began squashing them, she couldn't help but shriek. Sex should never hurt like this. Sex, as mediocre as it was with a man as unappealing like Liam, should at least be tolerable. Sex should at least have passion. This wasn't passion, this was violence.

No. Nothing was worth this. Fuck her image. There was a reason she preferred women. For starters, women had softer hands and they knew the difference between fondling and giving someone a mammogram.

"Wait, wait, Liam, stop," Pam mumbled as she pushed him off of her.

"What's wrong, babe?" Liam murmured against her neck. His toned torso was like an immovable wall. "Isn't this what you want?"

"Sorry, I – I thought it was but – but no. Please, get off me."

Liam pulled back and stared at her. "You gotta be kidding." He cackled as he rubbed his stubbly chin. "What, I'm not good enough for you?"

She almost blurted, "It's not you, it's me." But at that point she couldn't even lie anymore. It was definitely him.

He grabbed her shoulders and pushed her hard against the wall. "You listen to me bitch. You don't get to come to my house, drink my booze, flash your fuckin' titties just to give me blue balls."

"Screw you," she spat, desperately wriggling herself free.

Liam sneered. "Now we're back on the same page." He reached for his crotch and began undoing his fly when the door to the bathroom slammed open.

"What the fuck!" Liam shrieked, gripping the waistband of his blue chino short.

"Gotta take a leak," Eric Northman said, strolling casually inside.

"Go find a fucking tree, I'm busy here."

"I'm not a dog," Eric quipped, giving Pam a sideway glance.

Liam's face darkened as he stared at Eric, seemingly contemplating his options. A few heartbeats later, Liam gave up and seized Pam's elbow and tugged hard.

"Not so fast, champ," Eric drawled, blocking their path. "The girl obviously doesn't wanna go with you."

"Fuck off, Northman," Liam spat. "This isn't your party."

"Don't be a fucking cliché, man, and just let the girl go. You're embarrassing yourself."

"He's right. I wanna leave," Pam croaked as she tried to pull the top of her dress up with one hand while wiping her cheeks furiously with the other.

"C'mon, I'll take you home," Eric said, picking up her jacket off the floor and draping it over her quivering shoulder.

"Oh, now I see. You like her," Liam sing-songed, grinning wolfishly. "Next time, don't bury the lead. I wouldn't mind sharing her with a brother."

Eric narrowed his eyes at Liam. "No, thank you. I don't like blondes. And you, you're not my brother. I only have one and he knows how to treat women right. So unless you want to make a bigger spectacle of yourself, you move out of my way before I shove your blue balls into your ass."

Liam's jaw slackened at the threat. His head whipped toward the door just in time to see a few heads poking in to eavesdrop. He snarled at them before snapping his mouth shut. He puffed up his chest, smoothed his buzz cut with his palm and said, "All yours," with as much bravado as he could muster before he marched out of the bathroom with his fly open.

True to his word, Eric drove her back to her rented apartment just outside the university. As he was parking his flashy red Corvette illegally at the curb in front of the apartment, she turned to him and said, "Thank you."

He looked at her and shrugged.

Up close, under the soft light of the lamp posts, she realized he was more attractive. His chiseled features, his baby blues and thin, moist lips were irresistible enough to turn a gay woman straight.

She couldn't help it. She leaned in and kissed him hard on the lips.

He didn't return the gesture though as his lips remained firmly shut. She drew back and saw him staring at her.

She flushed. "Oh right. You don't like blondes."

He chuckled, shaking his head. "True, I prefer brunettes. But that's not why I'm turning you down. You're a gorgeous woman, Pam but you're also confused."

She blushed even harder. "How-?"

"Let's just say you made a blip on my gay-dar."

She laughed heartily. "You must think I'm crazy. I'm trying so hard to prove I'm straight I'm willing to whore myself to Liam."

"You're not crazy. You're just afraid because you're different. You think people aren't ready for you yet. And I can't blame you for that. Sometimes they can be pretty vicious. Don't let fear dictate who you wanna be. Embrace your sexuality. As for Liam, you can't take responsibility for his actions. He's already a douchebag long before he met you."

"Still, I encouraged him."

"Are you familiar with the theory of the Banality of Evil?"

Pam shook her head.

"It means people do bad things not because they're evil but because it's the norm in the society they live in. Liam's a fucking cliché. He has this idea that just because he's a frat boy means he has to act like a douche."

Pam was gobsmacked. She was expecting Eric Northman to be a vapid, self-absorbed dick. She didn't realize there was fully functioning brain inside that gorgeous head.

* * *

 **E/S**

 _Back in New York…_

Pam heard the click-clack of her partner's heels against the hardwood floor as she entered their three-bedroom Midtown apartment.

"Hon, I'm home," Miriam announced loudly in the living room.

"In here," Pam replied right before she tugged the zip of her favorite Louis Vuitton luggage and rolled it inside the walk-in closet and hopped back to the bed.

Miriam strolled in the bedroom she shared with Pam, her four-inch Jimmy Choo pumps dangling from her fingers.

"Hey you, how's your head?" Miriam asked.

Pam left the office earlier after complaining of a brewing migraine attack. Unbeknownst to her partner, her head wasn't the one that got a battering. It was her heart.

Miriam shed off her gray blazer and hiked up her matching pencil skirt as she made her way to their king-size bed and plopped beside Pam, resting her head against the padded headboard.

"Have you had dinner yet?" Miriam asked as Pam stared at her. "I can order chicken soup."

Pam shook her head as she marveled at Miriam's sweet, angelic face - her soft blonde hair, small, pointed nose, big hazel eyes and full lips. She wasn't the most gorgeous woman Pam had been with. She was the kind of girl who would have to do cartwheels to make an impression. She was skinny, perhaps a bit too thin compared to Pam's perfect curves. She was also on the short side, which was why she had to wear nothing less than four-inch heels to the office and practically everywhere else to avoid getting lost in the herd.

"How about some tea? Chamomile?" Miriam asked again.

Pam looked away as she recalled the first time Eric introduced her to Miriam. It was probably the longest ten-minute job interview in history. God, Miriam was pathetic. She was sweating profusely through her off-the-rack dress suit that Pam could actually see the half-moon pit stain through her charcoal gray blazer. Appearance aside, Miriam also came off as a bumbling idiot, who used the word 'like' after every word.

* * *

' _What do you think?'_ Eric asked as Miriam left the conference room, which they used to interview candidates.

' _There's no way we're hiring her. She's a fucking puppy.'_

' _I know. Which is why she's perfect for the job.'_

' _Are you high?'_

' _Not yet.'_

' _That's not funny, Eric.'_

' _You started it.'_

' _Real mature.'_ Pam scowled at him, fighting the urge to stick out her tongue.

Eric smirked, visibly pleased to win using a four-year-old's argument.

' _It's a hard no for me.'_ Pam pressed the home button on her iPad to close Miriam's profile page. _'We can't hire her to be the face of Northman Cap. Our competitors will laugh her out of the room before she can even get a word out.'_

' _I agree, she needs help. Give her a makeover, you know you want to. She can be your protégé, your pet project.'_

' _I'd rather get a poodle.'_

' _Don't be a brat, Pamela. She'll be a great addition to the fold.'_

' _She's hopeless.'_

' _She's likable. We need likable. The two of us together can be a little intimidating. We need an equalizer, someone who can humanize us. Someone who can get people to trust us and I believe she's it. We don't need a predator to lure clients in, we need Bambi. It's time to break the mold.'_

If only Miriam had known how hard Eric had fought for her.

* * *

"I know what'll help," Miriam pushed on, patting Pam's thigh. "Bubby's sour cream pancakes. What do you say? I'm buying."

"With what money?" Pam broke her silence as she turned around and stabbed Miriam with a glare. "Mine or Eric's?"

Miriam blanched instantly, her lips pursed into a grim line. "What're you talking about?"

"Don't, Miriam," Pam snapped. "Don't you fucking insult me."

Miriam swung her legs and peeled herself off the bed.

"Why?" Pam gritted out as she mimicked Miriam's movement and stood at the opposite side. "Why did you do it?"

Miriam broke eye contact and looked down at her feet. "How did you find out?" she asked softly.

"It doesn't matter how, I wanna know why. _Why, Miriam_?"

"Is it Eric? Does he know?"

"Why?" Pam roared ignoring her queries as she circled around the mattress to close their gap. "Why are you working with Felipe? Who else is involved? _Why the hell did you betray me_?"

"I didn't do it to hurt you. I did it to hurt _him_."

"Eric?" Pam asked, stunned. "What did he ever do to you?"

"Nothing. That's the problem. He never did anything for anyone but himself. Can't you see it, Pam? I did it for _us_."

Pam shook her head vigorously as she stepped back from her. "Oh no. Nonono. Don't you dare say that. Don't you dare use _us_ to justify what you did. I was arrested! I was dragged out of my house in handcuffs. I spent a night in a fucking cell. My entire career is in a limbo because of you. And you have the gall to say you did it for us? Well, fuck you."

Miriam scoffed and forced a brittle laugh. "I knew you'd always take his side. It was always Eric before anyone else."

Pam huffed. "Was that it? Was that the driving force behind your insanity? Jealousy? You're jealous of Eric?"

"Open your eyes, Pam! Everyone's jealous of Eric. Felipe. Sandy. Everyone!" Miriam thundered. "No matter what he does, no matter how badly he fucks up, he always gets away with it. He became a junkie and people bent over backwards to get him help. His brother took a bullet for him and he got all the sympathy. Now, this… his precious Northman Cap. We all worked our asses off to build the company from ground zero. You've invested everything you have for the firm and yet it's only _his_ name on the wall."

"You ungrateful little twat," Pam gritted out. "He gave you a job. You, Felipe and Sandy. If it weren't for him, you'd all still be slumming in God knows where."

"We were slaves," Miriam lashed out. "We were never his equal. We deserved more. _You_ deserved more. Eric's a dick. An entitled prick who always finds a way to clamber out of whatever pit he digs for himself. Well, let's see how he claws his way out of this one."

Pam's lips tugged into a smile that never reached her eyes. "You're right, _hon_. I deserved more. And yes, Eric is a dick. But you, you're a fucking cunt. There are plenty of pussies like you, but he's the only dick I trust. I guess you're right all along, between you and Eric, I'll always take his side."

Miriam's face crumbled into something ugly, something vicious. For a second there, she almost didn't recognize her lover. Then just as quickly, Miriam's features softened as her chest began to heave and her shoulder collapsed.

At least Pam was certain hers wasn't the only broken heart in the room.

Miriam locked her gaze onto Pam, black streaks marring her cheeks. "Remember what Eric used to say? Never apologize for your choices. I've made my choice and I will never apologize for it. Eric is done. When this is all over, no one will ever trust him again."

Pam's fingers flexed at her sides. She could almost see the headlines tomorrow: _Disgraced banker murders lover_.

She reined in her temper. Banality of evil, she reminded herself. Even the man who played a part in the Holocaust claimed he wasn't evil, just a man following orders. Miriam wasn't smart enough to pull off something of this magnitude, she was merely a marionette. Pam only had to follow the strings.

"Get out of my house," Pam snarled.

"It doesn't have to end this way."

"Oh honey, there can only be one cold-hearted bitch in this relationship. And it ain't you. You're right; you shouldn't apologize for your choices. So don't expect one from me after I'm done tearing you apart."

Miriam's shoulder shook harder. "I love you," she choked.

Pam swallowed the lump in her throat. There was a time when those words meant to her. She turned her gaze away from her lover as she marched to the walk-in closet and pulled the luggage she had packed before Miriam arrived. She crossed over to her partner and took her hand. She closed Miriam's fingers around the handle bar and said, "Here, you can have this. My parting gift."

Miriam burst into tears. All the fight had gone out of her.

Pam cradled Miriam's face with both hands, the pad of her thumbs sweeping mascara-tinted tears off her cheeks before she grazed her lips against Miriam's. "Go. Now, before I change my mind," Pam murmured bitterly.

"And babe, you better hope we don't cross paths again. Because the next time I see you, I'll make sure you'll be the one in handcuffs."

Miriam picked up her Jimmy Choos and dashed out of the apartment sobbing audibly.

Pam waited for the sound of the door slamming behind her former partner before reaching under the bedside lamp. She extracted the tiny Bluetooth microphone she had taped under the lamp's hood then walked over to her vanity to get her iPad inside the drawer.

She listened to Miriam's confession one more time before she emailed it to Stan's dummy email account. She then dug for her burner phone in her purse. She bought a new one on her way home. She couldn't risk using the old disposable cell that Stan had sent her in case Miriam had found a way to tap it.

Stan picked up after the fourth ring.

"I got her confession. I've emailed you the recording," Pam said without the unnecessary preamble.

"Where is she now?" Stan queried.

"You tell me."

"You put the tracker in her bag?"

Along with the burner, Pam also bought a coin-size TrackerPad she had attached on the inner lining of the luggage she had given Miriam. She had sent the QR code to Stan and the latter had already paired the device to his phone.

"I'll assign someone to tail her. Do you want updates?"

"No," Pam replied quickly. "She's all yours now. Don't let her get away."

"Are you gonna be okay?"

Pam shut her eyes tightly. She was in no condition to answer that right now. "Have you heard from Eric again?" she deviated.

"No. He used a different number when he called me. It's a burner but I don't wanna take a chance calling him in case it belongs to someone else," Stan answered. "Hasn't he called you?"

"He doesn't trust me." Could she really blame him? She was literally sleeping with the enemy.

"He trusts you, Pam. He's just taking a more cautious approach now. He took a hard hit with the Miriam bomb."

It wasn't just a bomb. It was fucking atomic.

"Do you know where he is?"

"Last I heard, he's in Boyce. I don't know if he's gone back to Bon Temps. For all we know, he's already on his way to Manhattan. We won't know until he makes contact again."

Pam said her goodbye and ended the call. She put the phone on the bedside table and counted down from ten, inhaling deeply after every number. Years of practicing yoga couldn't calm her down as she dropped to the floor and buried her face against the side of the mattress.

Then she wept.

For Miriam. For the love that failed her. For the friend who deceived her. For the life she dared to imagine only to be taken away.

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric.**

 **Thank you for all your thoughtful comments! Next up is Eric. Much love you guys!**

 **To my rock, MsStitcher, keep being awesome. Hugs all day!**

 **All mistakes are mine.**


	28. Chapter 28

" _Sure I'm sure. That's the bitch who screwed us over." Dennis Rattray muttered, his index finger covering Miriam's face in the picture. "She ain't a blonde when I met her though."_

A soft rumbling bubbled from Eric's chest as he stared at the photo. His shoulders quivered until he couldn't hold it anymore and a boisterous laugh escaped his lips. He banged his palms on the desk as he hooted. The mugger jumped at the noise, metal chains jangling and clanking against the table.

"Eric?" Sam asked nervously beside him, patting him softly on the shoulder as Eric bent to clutch his stomach. "You okay, bubba?"

Officer Jones eyed him warily too, her hand hovering on top of her duty belt where her holstered weapon was tucked in safely. Eric held up his hands in the air, the corner of his eyes moist with tears.

"I'm good," he stammered as he tittered, "I – I just need-" he grabbed the edge of the table as a fresh bout of laughter erupted once again.

"He lost his dang mind," Dennis observed quietly. Officer Jones and Sam were probably thinking it too. They only happened to have a little more tact to say it loud.

This felt like a heavily-orchestrated prank. A sadistic joke and the punch line was him. So he laughed until his sides hurt. Until his stitches began to sting. Until his belly stopped heaving. Until the pictures in his head vanished.

He caught his breath and steadied himself in his chair, rubbing the heels of his palms on his eyes. God, that was oddly satisfying.

"Are you done with your meltdown?" Officer Jones asked, the relief in her voice was evident.

Eric bobbed his head. His mouth felt dry, the back of his throat scratchy. He forced himself to cough a few times to clear his throat before he spoke again.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Dennis," Eric said, turning to the mugger.

"Does that mean you ain't gonna press charges?" Dennis asked excitedly, color returning to his cheeks.

Eric bared his teeth to the mugger. "The only thing you're getting from me is a piece of advice: Get yourself a damn good lawyer."

The color drained from Dennis's face again. "Please. Please Mister Northman. I'm beggin' you. Please."

Officer Jones strutted to the door and beckoned a couple of uniformed officers. The mugger had tears in his eyes, grovelling, while he was being hauled out of the room.

"What're you plannin' to do now?" Officer Jones asked, pulling up a chair beside him.

"I have to track my iPad," Eric replied. "All my accounts are accessible through that device."

"As in bank accounts?" the deputy followed-up. "Feds froze your assets. Your bank accounts would be shut down."

"I have offshore accounts in Cayman Islands and Dubai the feds know nothing about. Those can only be accessed through a series of pass codes I stored in an encrypted document on my iPad. I kept a copy of the codes, which are changed randomly every few weeks, in a safety deposit box." Eric also had other offshore accounts in Panama and Belize but he kept that information to himself.

Sandy could unlock his iPad easily. As for the encryption, it would be much harder to decode but it wouldn't be impossible.

"I've studied offshore banking while I was in the Academy. I know for a fact it couldn't be accessed through pass codes alone. The account holder needs to authenticate the transaction himself to be able to withdraw cash," the deputy said, brows furrowed.

"The goal isn't to withdraw my money. They're more interested in burying me in it."

The pieces clicked together as soon as Dennis identified Miriam.

Why Pam sent him to Louisiana.

Why Miriam asked him to lay low.

Why Felipe wasn't trying to gain access to the stolen funds.

Pam wanted him out of the way. Miriam was buying time until they could get their hands on his iPad and get the codes. Miriam was the one who convinced him to stay off grid. She knew he wouldn't report the mugging to avoid the Feds. He wondered if Pam had really been arrested. Or was it part of the ruse to rattle him. To incapacitate him.

"It finally makes sense now. They're going to stash the money under my name to incriminate me. They provided me a weak alibi by sending me to Louisiana. They told me to hide to make me look guilty." Eric stared at his fisted hands. "They weren't after my company. They were after me."

"Jesus," Sam breathed out.

"You were in the picture you showed Dennis," Officer Jones stated. "The people who wanted to crucify you, are they your friends?"

"I have no friends," Eric muttered under his breath.

In his white-knuckled climb to the top, he failed to see the snakes lurking in the ground.

* * *

 **E/S**

After they left the precinct, Eric bought a disposable phone and called Stan.

Eric gave Stan the gist in under two minutes, keeping his tone clinical, almost distant.

"Fuck me," Stan expelled after Eric was done explaining. "You sure it was Miriam?"

Eric didn't say a word.

"Man, I'd never in a hundred years peg that puppy for a bulldog." Stan paused, digesting the information. "What do you wanna do?"

"I want to know how deep this goes."

"Have you told Pam?"

"I only called you."

"You don't think…" Stan let his question hang in the air, unable to say what both of them were already thinking.

"I only called you," Eric repeated, hoping that'd be enough to fill in the blanks. "I want to know who else might be involved. I've been blinded long enough. I don't want to strike out again."

"How about the offshore accounts? D'you want me to look into it? I could lock your iPad, or erase it from the cloud."

Eric had thought about it. What good would that do? The damage had been done. He considered going back to New York to confront Miriam and Pam and maybe swing by Atlantic City to give Felipe a good whopping. But after the discovery of Miriam's betrayal, he decided to map out a different plan. Without knowing all the rogue players, it'd be like throwing punches in the wind.

"Just keep an eye on Felipe and Miriam for now." He was tempted to add Pam to the list but mentioning his best friend's name was far too painful to do. "I'll call you as soon as I come up with a plan."

He ended the call with a sincere 'thank you' and marched inside the diner where Hoyt and Sam were having coffee.

"What's the plan?" Sam asked, setting his mug of down on the table.

He was tired of people asking him that stupid question. He was tired of friends turning against him. He was tired of being kicked in the gut over and over. He was tired of not seeing the one person he needed right now. He was tired. Period.

"I'd like to go home," Eric said, looking directly at Hoyt.

"New York?"

Eric shook his head no. Home was Sookie.

* * *

 **E/S**

The drive back to Bon Temps took twice as long.

They had made two stops – one in a bakery in Alexandria where they stuffed themselves with frosted cupcakes laced with bourbon and the next was in a truck stop in Mansfield where they refueled Hoyt's car and Sam's insatiable belly. It was almost midnight when they pulled up in the parking lot in front of the Sheriff's office to get Sam's truck. Hoyt offered to give Eric a ride back to the farmhouse but Eric gathered from their previous conversations that the deputy wasn't planning on going home to his Mama yet. Not until he delivered the boozy cupcake to his Jessica. So Eric politely declined and Sam took the honor of driving Eric to the Stackhouses.

Eric spotted a black SUV on the driveway as they hit the gravelly path. It wasn't Jason's. Eric didn't have to check the plates to know it was Alcide's.

"Uh-oh. Clark Kent's on-duty," Sam mumbled as a tall, bulky man stood behind the screened-in door. "D'you need back-up?"

Eric unbuckled his seatbelt, hissing a little when the metal brace grazed his wound. He wasn't giving his injury enough attention. "I got this," he said as he pushed his door wide open and leapt off the passenger seat.

Sam, who was keen to play the Robin to Eric's Batman, followed suit. He didn't bother locking the doors as he chased after Eric, whose long strides were no match to his shorter legs.

The screen door creaked open as Eric climbed the porch steps.

"You've got some nerve," the doctor grumbled, shutting the door behind him.

"I need to talk to Sookie."

"She's sleepin'. And as far as you're concerned, you're done talkin' to her." Alcide crossed his meaty arms against his chest, already on the defense.

"Step aside," Eric ordered. Though his tone was low, the underlying hostility was unmissable.

"Fuck off."

"I've had a long day, Alcide. I don't have the energy to measure my dick against yours. So unless you're acting on Sookie's or Jason's behalf to keep me out, I suggest you step aside or I'll make you."

"I was wonderin' when the rich boy will make an appearance," Alcide sing-songed, puffing up his chest. "I don't give a damn if you're the fuckin' King of Wall Street, you don't intimidate me. You may have gotten a free pass from Hoyt but not from me. You committed fraud when you deliberately lied to hide your identity. Now, _I_ suggest you turn around and go wherever the fuck you came from or I will call the feds myself."

"Call them. Hell, I'll even give you a direct line to Quantico."

"You think I'm bluffin?"

"I think you're full of shit," Eric lobbed back as he took one step closer.

"You smug son of a -"

"Let him in," Sookie's voice cut through the tension as she materialized behind the screen door. She pushed the door out, making Alcide sidestep to avoid getting hit.

"Jason asked me to keep an eye out for trouble. This," he jabbed a finger at Eric, "is trouble."

"I'm a big girl, Alcide. I don't need a babysitter."

Eric arched his brow at the doctor, the side of his lips tugging into a smirk. "The lady has spoken."

The muscles around Alcide's jaw leapt and tightened. "No," the doctor spat through gritted teeth. "I'm not lettin' him in. I don't care whatever bullshit he's told you but to me he's a felon. I swear if he sets one foot in this house I'll turn him in."

Eric opened his mouth to say something but Sookie beat him to it.

"You do that," Sookie said, moving closer to Eric. Close enough to smell the lilacs in her hair and the Febreeze in her oversized Bon Temps gray shirt. "Don't forget to tell them to bring an extra set of handcuffs for me too because I was the one who lied on his form. I knew who he was the night we brought him in the hospital. I never told Jason because I didn't want my brother involved."

Eric fought the urge to sneak a glance at Sookie. Sam, who had been quietly observing at the bottom of the porch steps, let out a soft 'oh, shit' at Sookie's spiel.

"You're lying," Alcide mumbled, eyeing her suspiciously.

"How would you know? You've always been so clueless when it comes to me," Sookie said with a shrug.

It was Eric's turn to gnash his teeth at Sookie's personal jab at Alcide. _What the hell does that mean?_

Alcide's chest deflated. "Sookie…"

She held up her hand to silence the doctor. "I don't wanna hear it. Not anymore. Now, if you're not gonna let Eric in then we'll just leave."

"What?" Eric and Alcide blurted in unison.

Sookie didn't reply as she snatched Eric's hand and tugged him down the steps and brushed past an equally-confused Sam.

"Here," Sam hollered after them, throwing a key chain at Eric. "You're gonna need a getaway car."

"How 'bout you?" Eric asked.

"I know how to get home. Go and find yours."

"Thanks," Eric said with a nod as he and Sookie dashed toward the parked Bronco.

Sookie let go of his hand and stopped in front of the driver's side. She stuck out her hand, palm up.

Eric arched his brow.

"Do you know to handle a stick?" she asked. A couple of mischievous comebacks came to Eric's mind but decided to keep them to himself. This wasn't the time to get ' _cocky_ '.

Eric handed the keys to her and pulled the door open before helping her up the seat. He then jogged around to the passenger's side and assumed his position.

Sookie had just turned on the ignition when Alcide clamped his hand on the frame of her window.

"This is crazy, Sookie," the doctor said.

Sookie didn't even look at Alcide as she reached for her seatbelt.

"You're really choosing him over me?"

Sookie finally turned to meet the doctor's eyes. "No, Alcide," she murmured, "I'm choosing me."

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric.**

 **Thank you so much for reading and commenting! Glad to know I'm not the only one invested in this story. Love, love, love, you guys!**

 **My rockstar beta, MsStitcher, has approved the next chapter so I promise to post it soon after a little tweaking (because I'm a crazy girl) Hugs all day, m'love! Thank you!**

 **All mistakes are mine.**


	29. Chapter 29

After the day Eric had, he thought nothing would surprise him again.

Running off with Sookie did the trick.

His eyes never wandered away from her as she manuevered the truck through a series of dirt path. She drove for a good fifteen minutes in silence until the Bronco slowed to a stop beside a chain link fence overlooking an empty field. At closer look, Eric quickly discerned it to be a sports ground – football field, to be exact - with the gridiron markings on the grassy lawn and the sorry excuse for bleachers at the side.

Eric had no idea why Sookie chose this place so he asked, "Football?"

"Jason hates this place. He won't look for us here if Alcide calls him."

"Where is Jason?"

"Probably at Crystal's, I dunno. Tara and Alcide brought me home from the hospital. Tara's in the shower when you guys came, she's stayin' the night."

"Oh." Eric wondered if Sam had known Tara was in the farmhouse.

"Jason hates football?" Eric asked, trying to ease his way in with some small talk before they plunge into the big ones.

Sookie kept her gaze on the field, hands resting on the wheel. "He was QB when he still had two legs."

"Oh." He swore his vocabulary wasn't limited to vowels. He was nervous and it was making him goddamned stupid.

He followed Sookie's vision as he racked his shrinking brain for something much more eloquent than 'oh'.

"Sookie -"

"You need to go back to New York," she cut him off in a voice that seemed so tiny.

"You dragged me here, in the middle of God knows where, just to kick me out?" he asked. "You may not be familiar with how these things work, but when a girl runs off with a guy it usually ends with them making out."

"Eric..." She turned to face him.

His expression became solemn. "You're still mad at me." It wasn't a question.

"No." She shook her head. "I'm over that. I understand why you did it. This isn't a punishment."

"How come it feels like it is?"

She pursed her lips as she stared at him. A heartbeat later, she turned her eyes back to the field. "I called Hoyt when you were in Boyce. He said you got your things back and that you've already pressed charges using your real name. The jig is up. You're Eric Northman now. Bon Temps is no longer a safe haven for you. Not for long. There's nothin' left for you here."

"There's you," he said, his eyes never wandering off from her face. "Or is that off the table too?"

She met his gaze as she clutched tightly at the wheel as though it was the only thing keeping her from falling apart.

"You don't want me," she almost choked as her eyes glazed.

He scoffed bitterly. "You know you're right, you suck at reading minds."

The back of her hand swept her cheek, furiously brushing off the tears as she shook her head. "You don't want me, Eric. Believe me, you don't."

He caught her hand and held it firmly. "Because of what happened to you and Jason?"

She drew up short, a small gasp escaping her lips. "How…?"

"Sam told me. Turns out he and Tara don't keep anything from each other. Maybe we should give that a try."

That was all it took for her to break down as her shoulders went limp before it trembled uncontrollably. He grabbed the back of her head and pulled her flush against his chest. Moisture seeped through his shirt as she wept and sobbed and whimpered. His chest tightened - his heart so big and yet so weak - as he listened to her cry.

He was at a loss. Torn.

He wanted to know everything, every painful, infuriating detail of her misery but he wasn't sure if he had enough self-control to suppress his own rage. His nostrils flared and it was a conscious effort to keep his hand from balling into fists as he held her. She didn't need his anger. She needed his love.

But how could he give her love when he grew up with none.

That wasn't true, of course.

Love, to him, was his brother. Love was the friends who stood by him during the days when he thought he deserved none. Love was the stories of how his mother said no when the Colonel begged her to abort the son he never wanted. Love was Sylvie, whose intoxicating laugh was stronger than all the wine in her family's cellar. Love was…

 _Sookie._ The woman who saved him even before he realized he needed saving.

* * *

 **E/S**

Her sobbing ceased haltingly. She tried to pull away but he wouldn't let her as he wrapped his hands around her shoulder. He couldn't let go just yet.

Sookie didn't struggle as she pressed her head against his damp chest. He could feel the tiny tremors in her fragile form, the rise and fall of her chest as she sucked in air - perhaps to catch her breath or to tamp down whatever it was that was crushing her from the inside.

"I never saw it coming. None of us did," Sookie whispered. "I woke up in the middle of the night and saw him standing by my bed, holdin' Daddy's huntin' knife. I almost didn't recognize him. _Make a sound_ , he said, _and I'll slit Jason's throat_. He knew I'd try to fight. He knew me that well. So he paralyzed me the only way he knew how."

"By threatening your brother," Eric surmised.

She paused and took another shaky breath. Eric rubbed his hands along the length of her arm. He felt goosebumps prickling her skin. She was warding off a chill in Louisiana's hot and damp summer night.

"I didn't know how he found about Lala. Maybe he heard the kids in school teasin' me, I don't know. I kept tellin' him it was only a game. That Lala was gay. But he wouldn't listen to me. He was too far gone. He bound my wrists with the curtain rope and said whores don't get to explain."

Eric had so many questions. Starting with the role Lafayette played into all these. He didn't voice his queries though. Sookie seemed so brittle in his arms, anything could break her.

Her shoulders started quaking again and he could tell she was trying to choke a sob. He squeezed her arm gently. _I'm here_ , he wanted to say. It was upsetting that he was the one who was making her remember what she had been trying to forget. How important was it to know what really happened? Was it worth putting her in this much pain?

The answer was obvious. He didn't want her past. He only wanted her.

"You don't have to do this, Sookie. Whatever he did to you won't make me think less of you."

She drew back, pushing away from his grip to meet his gaze.

"I wasn't raped." Though her tone was firm, it did nothing to appease him. He didn't feel that sense of relief that should come with the knowledge that the bastard didn't get that far. Perhaps it was because of the way she said it. As if the crime was more insidious, which begged the question...

"What did he do to you?" he hushed although the vindictive part of him was letting out a mental scream.

Her hand snaked around her tiny waist, "He branded me so I'd never forget whom I belonged to. The scar was no longer there. At least not physically. Gran wouldn't let me live with it. I bet she'd give Jason his leg back if it were possible. She loved us that much. You see, Eric, I was raised in a house filled with so much love. I just didn't realize it would be the same love that would drive _him_ to madness." Her voice broke as she bit back another sob. "He turned something so pure, so sacred to me and twisted it into something so selfish and vile and terrifying."

Eric wanted to pull her in again but he was afraid she'd feel him seething underneath the calm façade he was trying so damned hard to project.

He kept his distance instead and asked, "Who is he?"

"I swore I'd never say his name again," she said with conviction.

"Then just tell me where he is," he gritted out. The rage simmering inside him - wringing his stomach into a tight knot - was getting harder and harder to contain.

She gave him a tiny smile, perhaps sensing the aggression in his tone. "Why?" she inquired. "So you could avenge me?"

"Tell me." Gone was the poker face as the muscles around his neck bunched and throbbed against his skin.

"Save your murder face for the people who screwed you over, Eric. Justice had been served here. He's already dead."

That revelation came as a shock as Eric drew up short. If that were the case then what the hell was Jason so afraid of?

"He's dead?" he echoed, unsure if he had heard her right.

"Two weeks after the incident, Gran got a call in her sister's house in Nola where we were stayin'. _He_ was tryin' to rob a convenience store in Jackson. The cashier fought back and _he_ died in the struggle. That was the last time we all mentioned his name. We all have our own cross to bear, it doesn't mean we need to carry it around for everyone to see - at least that's what Gran used to say."

Eric wanted so badly to touch her. He wanted to pull her close and kiss away her tears.

 _I love you,_ he wanted to tell her but couldn't find the courage to do so. It wasn't because he was scared. It was because she was.

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric.**

 **Sorry this took longer than I initially wanted. Thank you so much for reading and leaving thoughtful comments! They are love!**

 **My beta, the rockstar MsStitcher, is going on a much-needed holiday and although she had approved a couple more chapters, they might not be enough to keep up with my weekly postings until she gets back. Please bear with us. Love you, R!**

 **Until next week loves!**


	30. Chapter 30

_'No one could know,'_ Gran would remind them again and again.

Sookie wondered if her grandmother would pay her a visit for breaking her promise. Sookie had tried. God, she tried. For over a decade she had kept her word - kept their secret.

Jason didn't think it was fair of Gran to ask them to stay mum. To pretend that it never happened despite losing a limb. But still he kept his mouth shut. Because he made a promise.

Did Sookie think it was right to make up a story to conceal what really happened? No. Yet, she zipped her lips and nodded mutely every time people would offer sympathies for her family's tragic loss. Because she made a promise.

At the time, their young minds could never fully grasp why they had to lie, but did it anyway because of Gran. They both saw it in her eyes, the fierceness, the ferocious determination to protect her grandchildren at all costs.

It was that secret that held the Stackhouses together. Made Jason and Sookie's relationship stronger.

As Sookie lay against Eric's chest, listening to the pounding of his heart, she wondered if she had severed her bond with her brother by telling not one but two people the secret of the Stackhouses.

"No one likes a broken toy," she murmured, almost unwittingly, "those were his last words to me."

Eric lifted her off his chest and stared at her. She saw the tightness around his face, a mix of barely suppressed anger and overwhelming conviction that made her shiver.

"He was wrong," Eric said between clenched teeth. "No one could break you."

He cranked his seat upright and held both her arms. "Remember the night we met? You called me an asshole. No one had ever than done that before, at least not to my face. That's how I knew I've met my match." He snuck his thumb under her chin and tipped her head up to level with his. "You're Sookie Stackhouse, you don't bend to someone's will, you make them look up."

She was used to men showering her with flattery, bloviating to get her to spread her legs. But this, what Eric said made her head swell and her heart grow even bigger.

She was reminded of the time she told Alcide she wanted to pursue medicine, the look of pride in his face was priceless. _'You'd be a great doctor, Sook,'_ he said when he hugged her. _'You'd look so much better in a white coat.'_

The only difference was Eric didn't make her feel like she had to be a better version of herself - because in his eyes, she already was.

* * *

 **E/S**

It was almost three when they went back to the farmhouse.

Jason's truck was in the driveway in lieu of Alcide's vehicle. _One less hardhead to deal with_ , Sookie thought grimly.

She parked Sam's Bronco alongside Jason's truck and turned off the engine. She was unbuckling her seatbelt when Eric grabbed her hand and asked, "Are you sure you're okay?"

She smiled weakly. "I should be the one askin' you that."

Before they left the football field, Eric had given her the rundown of what he had discovered in Boyce.

Eric let out a breath. "I'm better here with you," he whispered before he raised the back of her hand to his lips and kissed it.

Sookie's thumb snuck under his chin and the tipped his head up. "As a veteran of repressin' emotions, I can tell you it ain't good for you."

"Believe me Sookie, it's in everybody's best interest that I repress my emotions right now," Eric said without any trace of mirth that sent a cold shiver down her spine. He glanced away, his face shuttered, and for a brief moment she felt sorry for the poor soul who had wronged him.

She squeezed his knee. "Hey, come back to me."

He turned to her with a tiny smile that softened his features. She sighed, relieved to have her Eric back.

"It was easier when I knew who my enemies were. Now it's just… I don't know who to trust anymore."

"You can start with me," she said softly.

His face lit up as he grinned broadly. "I already do," he husked before he kissed her on the lips.

* * *

 **E/S**

They marched hand in hand quietly toward the porch. The tiny lampposts by the doorjamb provided enough light to cover the balcony. She pulled the screen door and tried the knob on the front door. It was locked - as it should be. After the news of the 'break-in' spread across town, people became more cautious. If only they knew that the person who assaulted her and broke her brother's leg had walked in using his own key.

She reached under a ubiquitous clay pot with a withering hibiscus plant near the door, procured a small key and let her and Eric in. They could hear the soft humming of the television in the living room. They peered in and found Sam and Tara sleeping on the couch, on top of each other, fully-clothed, thank God.

Eric chuckled beside her as they crept toward the couple. Sookie snatched an old afghan that was draped over the armrest of the wingback and gingerly covered the slumbering lovers. Sookie motioned for the television and Eric quickly crossed over to turn it off. As soon as the sound went off, Tara stirred and blinked rapidly at her.

"Sook?" she croaked, pulling herself off Sam, who had been jolt awake by the sudden movement. "What time is it?"

"It's late, you should head upstairs," Sookie whispered.

Tara rose to standing, pulling the sleepy Sam along with her. Eric handed Sam the keys to his truck and muttered, "Thanks, Sam."

"S'nothin'," Sam mumbled as he rubbed his eyes. "Did you give her the booze cake?"

"Ah crap, the cupcakes!"

Sookie knotted her brows as she watched Sam rush outside, with Eric right on his tail.

"What's that about?" she asked Tara.

"Peace offerin' for you, lubricant for me," Tara quipped with a wink.

Sookie had absolutely no idea what Tara meant by that so she merely shook her head. "Is Jase here?"

"He's upstairs, prolly sleepin'. Alcide must've called him after you left. He was pissy at first but Sam got him to cool down. The doc stayed awhile and left a little after two. He ain't happy, that's for sure."

Sookie had nothing to say to that. Alcide was her friend but she was done chasing after him. She had carried a torch for him long enough. It might have taken her awhile to realize it, but Alcide, as super as he was, wasn't the hero she needed. In a span of a single conversation, Eric made her realize the champion she needed was inside her all along.

Both women made their way to the porch just in time to see Eric and Sam marching toward them with pink boxes in hand.

"Gimme, gimme, gimme!" Tara squealed like a kid as she snatched the box from Sam and zipped to the porch swing. Sam took a seat next to Tara, trying to steal a piece. Tara swatted his hand before she flicked her finger and scooped melted buttercream icing on top of the pastries before licking it clean.

 _Ah, lubricant_.

Sookie chuckled as she glanced at the keyed-up couple, who a few minutes ago were as dead as logs on her sofa.

"M'lady," Eric interrupted her musing as he stuck out his arm to her. "I come bearing gifts."

She suppressed a girly giggle at Eric's cringe-worthy attempt at a British accent. She took the package with both hands and resisted the urge to curtsy. She lifted the flap and spied half a dozen of chocolate cupcakes with the frosted top weeping all over the box from the heat.

"They look sad," she murmured, jutting her lower lip for effect.

Eric peered as well and sighed. "Ah damn. Sorry." He dragged his hand through his hair. "I forgot about them. They're really good though. I ate like six of 'em."

"Six?" she raised her brow to him.

"Sam had eight." Eric quickly jabbed a finger at Sam who had successfully snatched a cupcake from Tara's box.

"Traitor!" Sam mumbled, bits of cake flying out of his mouth.

Sookie chortled as she covered the box and sidestepped away from the swing to dodge the dangerous trajectory of Sam's spittle.

"You should put that in the fridge. Sam is not to be trusted with anything chocolate," Eric warned her with a heavy dose of levity.

Sam skewered him with a glare before shoving the rest of the cupcake in his mouth.

Tara seemed to have taken Eric's warning seriously as she scrambled off the swing and made a mad dash inside with Sam trailing closely behind.

Sookie shook her head and hoped all that commotion wouldn't rouse her brother. She darted her gaze back to Eric and noticed something lacking.

"I thought you already got your things back?" she asked.

Eric's gaze dropped to the floor as he mopped back his hair with his hand. "They're in the truck."

"Well, get it," she ordered sternly, ignoring the way Eric was avoiding her eyes.

"Funny thing, turns out I'm still under Sam's employ and he needs me to do the auditing for the bar first thing in the morning so he could start his pitch to the bank."

"Pitch?"

"He has decided to sell the bar."

Sookie's face fell. "No," was all she could say. Losing Merlotte's would be a big blow not only to her but to their small community.

"I'm sorry."

Sookie swallowed the lump in her throat and plastered a smile on her face. "Okay then, we'll go to Merlotte's later to help Sam."

"No. _You_ need to rest," Eric said firmly.

"And you don't?" she countered.

"I do. That's why I think it's more practical if I sleep at Merlotte's today. Sam said I could crash on his couch in the trailer."

Sookie gave him a hard look.

"No," she snapped, shaking her head. "You have a perfectly good bed here."

"Sookie…"

"If you're worried about Jason, I'll talk to him."

"I'm not worried about your brother. I'm worried about how my presence here is putting a strain in your relationship with him. Please, Sookie. This isn't the time to be contrarian. I… _want_ you," he said, inching closer, his head hovering over hers, "If I want to be a part of your life I need to be on your brother's good graces. I have to earn his trust back."

Trust, she thought, seemed to be the running theme of the night.

"Fine." She jutted her chin up. "We'll give your way a try, but only for one night."

The side of his mouth tugged into a smile. "One night," he echoed, lowering his head before placing the softest kiss on her forehead.

"And if your way doesn't work, I'll build you a cubby under my closet," she quipped before she pushed herself up, standing on her tiptoes and kissed the dimple on his chin.

"Hey, hey," he said, his arm snaking around her waist. "You missed the spot." And captured her lips with his.

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric.**

 **Sorry for another short chapter. I'll make it up to you in the next one. RL just got a whole lotta crazy.**

 **As always, thank you MsStitcher for ninja beta-ing. You're the best!**

 **Much love you guys! Will post the next one soon!**


	31. Chapter 31

Sookie overslept.

She was jolted awake from the sound of something drilling downstairs. She sprang upright and noticed that she was alone. After Eric and Sam had left, she and Tara went straight to bed. Now, Tara was gone. Sookie spied a note on her bedside table.

 _Went back home to change._

 _Meet you at Sam's later._

 _T._

She reached for her alarm clock that she vividly recalled she had set to 8 AM. It was almost eleven in the morning. Tara must have turned off the alarm before she took off.

Sookie ground her teeth. Tara had been taking a lot of liberties when it came to her lately. She was still crossed at the fact that Tara had shared her most guarded secret to Sam hours after Sookie had confided in her. She might have to have a little chat with Tara later.

She peeled off her blanket and swung out of the bed to inspect that sound that had roused her. She marched outside and saw Jason, utility belt wrapped around his waist and a power drill in hand, poking a hole through the edge of the front door. She decided to take a closer look at her brother's new project later.

She went back to her room, grabbed her robe and rushed to the bathroom to do her morning ritual. She had showered and changed into a yellow sundress with tiny white flowers, a pair of beige flats and a white cardigan. She let her hair down to air dry as she swiped her lips with a light cherry-flavor lip gloss.

New day, she smiled to herself as she stared at her reflection in the floor standing mirror.

She made her way downstairs. Jason was done with his task. She hung her cardigan and her purse on the coat rack and glanced at the front door on her way to the kitchen. Her blood boiled at the sight of the new chain lock her brother had so thoughtfully installed on the door. Perhaps it was to keep her from sneaking out in the middle of the night. Or to keep someone else out.

 _Dammit, Jason_.

She found her brother beside the fridge, chugging down orange juice straight from the carton. She crossed over to the counter mutely, grabbed a glass from the overhead shelf and put it on the table with a thud.

Jason looked in her direction, then at the glass. He put the carton down on the table and wiped his mouth his hand.

"Use a glass next time. It won't break your back to get one," she grated as she poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot.

"You don't seem to mind when Eric does it," Jason volleyed back. "Where is he by the way?"

Sookie sipped from her mug and winced when the tepid black liquid hit her tongue. She poured the cold java in the sink and rinsed her cup. "He slept at Sam's."

Jason unhooked his utility belt from his waist and pulled up a seat across from her. "Sam's okay with Eric stayin' with him?"

She smiled humorlessly. "Sam actually insisted. 'Cos unlike you, he doesn't think Eric's a menace."

Jason slammed his utility belt on the table with a deafening clang, making her jump as she leaned by the counter.

"Stop it!" he roared. "Just because I refuse to drink the kool-aid Eric was passing 'round doesn't make me the bad guy here. Everything I do, I do to protect you."

Sookie bit back a scream that was building up in her throat. "From who, Jason? From Eric?" she asked defiantly.

"From yourself," Jason replied in a clipped tone. "I don't want you to make our parents' mistake."

Sookie narrowed her eyes at her brother and laughed humorlessly. "Isn't it enough to blame me? You have to blame the dead too? Who's next, Gran?"

Jason opened his mouth, his hands balled into fists. Then, as if changing his mind, he tightened his lips and dropped his hands to his thighs, squeezing them hard.

The sight made Sookie's heart plummet to the floor. This was exactly why they buried their secret. Because talking about it would only reveal all the flaws of their once perfect family. Jason was her family. They should be on the same side. _Always_.

She crossed over to him and crouched in front of her brother. Slowly, she pried his fingers off his thigh and closed her hands over his. "Let's not do this, Jase. I don't wanna fight," she pleaded. "I appreciate everything you've done for me, I do. All the things you've given up and lost. I promised you I will make it up to you and you can hold me to that. But you'll have to let me live my life. You have to let me move on."

Jason's taut expression softened a little as he stared at his sister. "I want you to move on, Sook. God, you have no idea how much I want to put everythin' behind," he said somberly.

Sookie smiled, feeling fresh tears stinging her eyes. "That's all I want," she choked.

"Do you wanna know what I want?" Jason hushed. Sookie nodded with a smile. "I want you to go to Nepal."

"What?" she asked, surprised as she blinked back her tears.

"Take the internship in Doctors Without Borders. Go to Nepal with Alcide. He can even get you ready for the MCAT while you're there. Then when you return after a year or so you'll be more than prepared to ace that test. Alcide will -"

"Is this his idea?" she gritted her teeth.

"It's a step in the right direction."

Sookie scoffed. "Nepal?"

"Why not? There ain't no better way to move on than movin' to another country."

"Jesus, Jason, do you realize how crazy you sound right now?" she bellowed. "You want me to move to a foreign land and leave everythin' behind?"

"Don't you mean leave Eric behind?" Jason retorted.

Sookie clammed up.

"What do you think will happen when Eric's financial problems get resolved? Do you think he'll still stay here? Even if he decides to hang around for a while, how long do you think that'll last? What if he finally gets bored being the big man in a small town? What'll you do then?"

"This is my home. You're drivin' me out of my home because of your irrational fear that some boy will break my heart?"

"You know as well as I do that he doesn't belong here."

You hate him that much?"

"I love you that much." Jason squeezed her hand. "You have no idea how much danger you're in."

"Eric isn't the maniacal villain you and Alcide were so quick to make him. He made a mistake. Everyone makes mistakes. Forgiving him doesn't make us stupid. It makes us hopeful."

"Sook…" he bit his lip as though trying to stop words from spilling. "You - you - I'd feel much better if you go to Nepal. I don't need you here anymore. I'm goin' to have my own family. I can't be responsible for you too. You're better off with Alcide. He loves you. It's what you've always wanted."

"There's no reasonin' with you," she snapped as she pulled herself up, wiping her cheeks furiously. She smoothed the length of her skirt then straightened her back and marched out of the kitchen.

Jason followed her to the front door, where she unhooked her bag and cardigan from the rack. "Sookie!"

"You know what Jase, you're right. Everything you said about Eric could happen. He could leave. I could get hurt. But guess what, I don't give a shit. I wanna be reckless for once. I wanna be with someone who thinks I'm worth sticking around in this small town. I wanna be the girl who gets the boy. I think I deserve that much. I deserve to fall in love."

Jason huffed, his lips set in a hard line. With a final stabbing look, he turned on his heel and stormed upstairs, his artificial foot pounding against the wooden steps. Sookie took a deep breath as she tried to calm her nerves and regain her composure.

The loud bang of the slammed door didn't make her flinch. She was expecting it. Jason was a better drama queen than her. She tied the sleeves of her cardigan around her waist, slung her bag over her shoulder and pulled the front door open.

This time, she flinched.

"I just want to make one thing clear," Eric said as he leaned against the doorjamb. "I'm the boy, right?"

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric.**

 **Okay so this is shorter. But I can't help but ending it here. I hope you liked the ending as much as MsStitcher and I do!**

 **Love all day to my ninja beta, R! Enjoy the sun m'love!**

 **Much love to y'all! Next one will be longer. xx**


	32. Chapter 32

Sookie sucked in her breath as she gaped at the man smirking behind the door.

"What – when – how?" She couldn't seem to figure out what to ask first. She squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head to get her thoughts straight. "How long have you been standin' there?"

"Long enough to catch the good stuff," he replied, biting his lower lip to suppress a full-blown grin.

The man had bags under his eyes, was wearing a wrinkled shirt and sporting mousy hair and yet he still managed to pull off a mouth-watering swagger. God, help her.

"What're you doin' here?" she stammered.

"I was hoping I could speak to Jason," Eric replied swiftly. "I suppose now is not a good time?"

Sookie grabbed his hand and pushed him back enough so she could close the door behind her. "You guessed it right, buster."

"Then I guess I'll go straight to my real agenda."

"Which is?"

"Ask you out for lunch."

She could feel her cheeks burning, the side of her mouth curving. "Like a date?"

He shrugged - a miserable stab at playing it cool. "Well, since you insist…"

She arched her brow. "Eric…" she warned.

"Yes, Miss Stackhouse, I am officially asking you out."

She finally let herself smile. "Then what're you waitin' for? I am yours to woo."

She hooked her arm around his as they both descended the porch steps.

"You haven't answered my question yet, am I the boy you're planning to be reckless with?" There was the goddamned smirk again.

"Shut up."

"C'mon, lover, throw me a bone here."

She chuckled. "Didn't I tell you not to call me that?"

"Lover? What's wrong, _lover_?"

She slapped his chest playfully. Her gaze shifted to the blue Ford Bronco parked behind the fig tree. "Is that Sam's truck?"

"Yeah, he loaned it to me."

"Won't he need it to run errands?"

"He and Tara are visiting Terry at Shreveport. He's using the missus's truck."

"Oh shoot, Terry! I haven't seen him since -"

"I think Terry had enough Sookie-time to last him a few more days. Me on the other hand…"

Sookie flushed again. She fixed her eyes on the truck as Eric guided her toward the passenger's seat. "Wait, you're driving?"

"How do you suppose I got here in the first place?" He pulled the door open for her.

"I thought you couldn't drive a stick?"

"You _assumed_ I couldn't drive a stick."

He helped her climb to her seat and reached over to strap her seatbelt before he made his way to the driver's side.

"Why didn't you tell me last night?" she resumed questioning as he started the engine.

"Last night was your rodeo. Today, I'm running the show."

The truck pulled out of the driveway with ease. Sookie snuck a glance at the window upstairs, wondering if her brother was watching. She cast the thought from her head. She was done with the sibling drama. Jason could be fiercely stubborn. Unfortunately for him, they shared the same DNA.

"How did you learn how to drive a manual?" Sookie asked.

"One of my brother's many expensive hobbies was restoring vintage cars. Mine was sneaking them out for test drives."

She looked at Eric. She wasn't sure if he was aware but every time he talked about Godric, there was always a gleam in his eyes, that unmistakable lilt in his voice. It was fascinating and all the more endearing.

"What was Godric like?" she dared to ask.

His features softened as he sighed. Then ever so slowly a smile, not a haughty smirk, lit up his face.

"Godric was…" he paused as his Adam's apple bobbed. "He had a way with words. He would have made a damn good politician. He was one of those people who could inspire loyalty and instil fear at the same time. There was this time, I think I was five or six, I took his mint edition Millenium Falcon out of its box and played with it when he was still at school. When he got home, he saw the toy on the floor and gave me ' _the look_.'" He used air quotes. "He didn't say anything, not a peep. He just stared at me, never blinking. I could feel myself shrinking until finally I couldn't take it anymore and I burst into tears. My brother annihilated me without lifting a finger. Taught me a lesson though, I never touched any of his toys again after that."

He glanced in her direction and flashed a smile. "That's funny because even when we were young my brother was always shorter than me," he quipped.

Sookie pasted on her own grin. "Well, no shocker there. Almost everyone's shorter than you."

"Not in Sweden. In Sweden, even the ladies are tall. You'll stick out like sore thumb there."

Call her presumptuous but she sensed an unspoken promise there. She squeezed his hand and rolled her eyes, feigning annoyance. "Wow, you're really good at this wooing business," she quipped drily.

He chuckled.

"What did he look like?"

"Godric got all my mother's features. Black hair, blue eyes, small nose. He's goddamned pretty. I, on the other hand, got the Colonel's blond hair and alienating height. I could only pray I didn't inherit his hairline too."

Sookie giggled. In her head, the Colonel had a wide girth, bushy eyebrows, bulby nose and, with that new snippet of information, thinning hair, combed back and slick with smelly pomade.

She spied Eric checking a shabbily drawn map on a piece of white paper taped to the dashboard.

"What's that?" she asked, craning her neck to get a better look. "Is that a map?"

"That's my GPS," Eric said, twisting his shoulder to block her view.

"Where're we goin' anyway?"

"It's a surprise."

She rolled her eyes. "You do realize that I've lived here all my life, right? I know this town like the back of my hand."

"Will you just sit down? Remember, this is my rodeo."

Sookie folded her arms across her chest and threw him a dirty look.

Eric hit the gas, eyes glued to the road, abiding to the speed limit. He turned his signal on before darting to the right, exiting the main road. Sookie never pegged Eric to be a conscientious driver. Especially after Jason's animated account the night they fetched her from the church after Doris broke down.

She glanced at him, wondering if he heard about Jason's suggestion for her to join Alcide in Nepal.

"Eric," she started, squirming a little in her seat. "What's gonna happen now? I mean, have you thought about New York?"

He shook his head. "No. No shoptalk today. We're on a date. Today, we'll be about us. Just us. Nothing else. We'll do what normal people do on dates. You'll tell me all your favorite things and I'll try to remember them all. We'll swap stories - the good ones, happy ones - those that won't make me want to strangle a nameless man with a piano wire."

Sookie's gut churned at that last statement. Eric must have noticed her discomfort because he quickly turned to her and said, "We'll flirt. At least I will. Mercilessly. You're free to challenge me, of course," then wiggled his eyebrows.

She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes again.

The truck slowed down as it hit the dirt road. Eric asked her to roll up her window before he turned on the AC. The Bronco was showing its age as it hiccupped and groaned while treading the rough patches wading though the secluded area. Sookie was getting antsy, curiouser by the minute. She had been here a couple of times before. It wasn't a tourist spot, that's for sure. For one, it was near a swamp where alligators and God knows what had been spotted before. Reptiles weren't her primary concern though. It was those godawful mosquitoes the size of her fist she despised the most, nasty bloodsuckers that seemed to develop a serious craving for her blood.

"There's no shame admittin' you're lost, Eric," she drawled, trying to be flippant.

Eric merely shook his head as he continued his white-knuckled traverse through the wooded spot. A few pregnant minutes later, the truck finally slowed to a stop beside a huge Cypress tree. He unhooked his seatbelt and reached for the glove compartment.

Sookie watched him with wary eyes. Maybe she had it all wrong again. Maybe Eric _was_ a criminal, a deranged psychopath. Oh God, she was going to die a virgin.

He was rifling through the pile of old receipts and she wondered what was he looking for?

A gun? A knife?

"Eric…" she breathed nervously.

"Ah, here it is," he exclaimed, in his hand was…

… _a bottle of citronella oil?_

He handed it to her and she was left staring at her upturned hand.

"Slather some on before we go down."

"Down where?"

"There." He pointed his finger to his left, opposite the swamp. Sookie's gaze landed on a small log cabin partly concealed by the row of giant Cypress trees.

"Whose house is that?"

"Mine for the moment," he answered before he opened his door and hopped off the truck. He then pulled the backseat door and picked up two bags off the floor – a black backpack and a brown paper bag.

Sookie could barely keep up with his movement, the bottle of bug repellent still unopened in her hand.

He raced to her side and pulled open her door.

"Yours?" she asked, nonplussed.

Eric put the brown bag on the roof of the truck and took the bottle from her. He snapped the lid open and poured the oil in his palm and rubbed them together. "Arms please," he said, tipping his chin to her bare arms.

Sookie hesitated for a moment before she extended both her arms to him like a clueless child. Eric ran his slicked palms along the length of her arms.

"Do you want me to do your legs too?" he asked, the mischief in his tone unmissable.

Sookie pressed her legs together and flushed. "No, thank you."

"You're sure? I don't mind," he said with a smirk and a wink.

She pinned him with a glare, before she unlatched her seatbelt and climbed out off the vehicle. "Are you gonna tell me whose house that is?"

"It's Hoyt's," Eric replied, grabbing the brown grocery bag from the roof before closing the passenger door with his hip.

"Hoyt?" she gasped. "I didn't know Hoyt has a cabin by the swamp."

"Neither does his momma." Eric looped his arm and Sookie obligingly hooked hers around his as they began walking toward the cabin, dried twigs snapping beneath their feet. "Hoyt offered it to me yesterday before we left Boyce. He must've known Jason wasn't going to roll out the red carpet for my return."

The cabin effused a sense of isolation, nested in the middle of moss-dressed trees, built with white cedar logs that looked weathered yet sturdy. It seemed well-kept from the outside, no sign of decay or mold. Although it was far from the stately cabins commonly found in the Northern part of the country, it was unpretentious, homey even. Despite the welcoming impression the dwelling was giving off, Sookie found herself oddly distraught.

As they stood side by side in front of the wooden door, Sookie's shoulders tightened. Eric, who must have sensed the sudden change in her stance, regarded her closely before he dug inside his pocket.

"Here," he said, giving her the key to the Bronco. "Take it. You can leave whenever you like. I don't want you to feel as though I'm holding you hostage."

Her head snapped up and turned from side to side. "It's not that. It's -" she looked down at the ground. "I just -" she touched the craggy wall of the cabin. "This isn't you. You're not s'pposed to settle for a place like this. You're Eric Northman. You wear tux and leather jackets. You live in an urban jungle not a real jungle. This isn't the life you're s'pposed to live."

Eric stared at her, brows furrowed. Then his lips curled widely, baring his teeth before his guffaw filled the still air.

"So you've googled me, huh?" he asked as his laughter tapered.

"I didn't!" she squealed, mortified. "Tara did. She was… um… curious."

"Oh sweet child, don't believe everything you read on the Internet. They're more fiction than fact." He shrugged. "Okay yes, I was, should I say, a little privileged back then. But in case you haven't been paying attention I've been knocked down a few pegs since then. And I wouldn't have survived that catastrophic shit storm without you."

She smiled, but it never reached her eyes. "We could have done more. If only Jason wasn't bein' -"

"Shhh." He placed a finger on her lips. "There's nothing I wouldn't give to be welcomed back into your house. Jason is being Jason. His one job is to protect you. To him I'm a threat and I can't blame him for that. I know he'll come around, he's a good man. So while we wait for Jason to realize I'm not a danger to both of you, I'll be staying here. I wouldn't mind some company though."

"Oh sweet child," she echoed him in jest, "you wouldn't last a day in this house without me."

"Ooh do I hear slumber party?" His grin got wider, his eyes gleaming.

She chuckled, shaking her head. "This is like the first scene in every slasher movie I've ever watched. Does it even have indoor plumbing?"

Eric nodded. "It's the first thing I looked for when Hoyt and I swung by here earlier."

"You've already checked out the house?" she asked in surprise.

"You won't believe the things I could do after four cups of coffee."

"Don't tell me you haven't slept at all."

He made a face. "No offense to Sam but his trailer isn't built for two grown ass men. I stayed up all night in his office and finished the auditing. Then I went to the Sheriff's department to see Hoyt and ask if his offer still stands. Let's just say I've had a productive morning."

The rush of guilt she felt was instantaneous. While she was sleeping soundly in the comfort of her bed, Eric had been restlessly running countless errands. She wondered when his caffeine-induced high would wear off.

"Oh Eric," she couldn't help but say.

"Stop," he said, cupping her cheek. "I don't do pity parties. After everything that happened all I wanna do is be with you. I know this isn't ideal but -"

She shook her head, placing her hand on top of his. "I wanna be with you too. I do." She smiled. "You had me at indoor plumbing."

He snickered. "Have I mentioned the backyard pool?"

"Ooh swanky." They laughed, their hands falling down. "You know there're gators in that swamp, right?"

"So that's a hard no to skinny dipping?"

"We're still in the first hour of our date, Eric. Let's keep it under PG-13 shall we?"

"I promise to keep my clothes on for as long as you wish lover."

She had a sinking feeling she wouldn't wish it for long.

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric.**

 **This is a loooong chapter divided into a few parts. I'll try to post the next one soon. Thank you for reading and commenting! Sorry I didn't get to reply to your lovely comments, RL has been challenging. I just wanted to get this out as soon as possible to make up for the short chappie.**

 **Much love to the awesomest MsStitcher who just got back from her wonderful holiday. Welcome back sweetie!**

 **Love, love, love y'all!**


	33. Chapter 33

**_Because it's been awhile… let me catch you up. Eric found out Miriam was in on Felipe's scheme and returned to the farmhouse to talk to Sookie. Sookie also told Eric about the night Jason lost his leg. After realizing that they both liked each other, Eric and Sookie went on an official date in a cabin by the lake._**

 _ **Previously…**_

Sookie expected a man cave and instead got the house that Hello Kitty built.

The pink flower-dotted curtains hanging loosely by the windows made her blink twice. A couple of wingback chairs with the same floral pattern in pink and white hues made her clap her hand over her mouth just to stop herself from giggling. The small round table in the middle of the matching chairs were adorned with bright yellow crochet doilies and the TV rack facing the chairs was draped with a larger piece of white crochet doily. On top of the rack were a 32-inch flat television and a compact DVD player. Sookie marched closer to inspect the collection of DVDs beside the player. It didn't surprise her to find _Notting Hill, My Best Friend's Wedding_ and _Pretty Woman_ among the titles, knowing what a big _Julia Roberts_ ' fan Jessica was.

"Oh dear Lord," she breathed. This looked more like a teenage girl's dream house than a grown man's refuge. And she had feeling she had barely scratched the surface.

"Hoyt wanted Jessica to feel at home," Eric said, half-apology, half-excuse.

"I can see that," Sookie quipped.

Sookie whipped her head around to study the rest of the house. At the opposite end of the room was a small kitchen separated by a long wooden breakfast counter. The tiny fridge perched on top of a makeshift rack, sitting next to the old sink was a nice addition to the kitschy kitchen. There was a gas stove but no convection oven. Well, that would have been too much. The rest were bare necessities - a couple of pots, pans, cast iron skillet (no Southerner worth her salt would have a kitchen without a perfectly seasoned cast iron skillet) plates, utensils, mugs and knives.

"Where's the electricity comin' from?" she asked, awestruck at the sheer number of electronic appliances in the cabin.

"There's a generator out back. There's also a back-up in case the other one runs out of gas."

Sookie sat on one of the two high stools at the breakfast bar and snickered as she picked up the pink Hello Kitty two-slice toaster in front of her.

"Wait till you see the bedroom," Eric commented, setting the brown paper bag on top of the counter. "I hope you like pink."

Sookie couldn't help but flush at the mention of the bedroom. Their living arrangement back in the farmhouse was easier to work out because they didn't have to share a room. But here… this could get a little tricky.

"From one to ten, how hungry are you?" Eric quickly digressed, sensing her unease.

She looked up and made a show of pressing her stomach. "Three and a half," she answered. Although she hadn't eaten anything yet, food was the last thing on her mind.

"Okay. I still have time to hit the shower before I start with lunch," he said, peeling the strap of his bag off his shoulder.

"You're cookin'?" she asked incredulously.

"I sure am. Have you had Swedish meatballs before?"

Her cheeks burned furiously. The innuendo wasn't lost on her. She looked away and went back to studying the pink toaster. She didn't trust herself not to melt under his gaze. "I... uh… I had meatballs before."

Eric, ever the opportunist, seized his chance to make her redden even harder as he inched closer to her, leaning against the bar, stretching languidly like a cat on the prowl. "But not Swedish meatballs, yes?" he purred.

"Is there a difference?" she drawled, feeling equally impish. "All balls are the same."

He tsked, wagging his finger in front of her. "That's where you're wrong, lover. Not to toot my own horn but my meatballs are known to have quite an effect."

It was a Herculean effort to keep a straight face as she murmured, "Do you understand the concept of tootin' your own horn? Because I think you did just that. Next time maybe you should leave the tootin' to me."

He beamed at her and bit his lower lip, seemingly restraining himself. One, two heartbeats later he sighed, straightened his stance, gave her forehead a quick peck and dashed to the bathroom next to the kitchen.

Sookie finally let herself smile, touching the spot where Eric had kissed her and closed her eyes. When she regained her bearings, she hopped off the stool and dug inside the grocery bag.

She found two packs of beef - ribeye and minced – and a bottle of Merlot. Iron enhancers, she thought to herself. She also discovered a pack of pre-washed salad greens, raw baby potatoes and carrots, eggs and of course, a carton of OJ.

She put the meat in the fridge along with the wine, juice and eggs. She deliberated about starting to prep the veggies but decided against it. This was Eric's rodeo, she reminded herself.

After clearing the counter, she took her phone out of her purse and checked for cell reception. It was spotty at best, which wasn't much of a surprise considering their remote location. She fired a quick text to her brother.

' _Sorry for lashing out on you. Hope we can move past this. For now, I think it's best if we take some time apart. I like him, Jase, that won't change. I'm at Hoyt's cabin with Eric. Don't wait up for me. If you care for me you'd respect my decision.'_

She thrust her cell back in her bag and hoped Jason was big enough a man to grant her the space she had asked for.

She could hear the splashing of water from the bathroom. Feeling a little adventurous, she walked inside what she suspected to be the bedroom. If she hadn't realized it before, she had now: Hoyt was in love with Jessica.

The bedroom had a strong scent of vanilla, Jessica's signature fragrance. Like Sookie, Jessica was a baker. On her first day at Merlotte's she brought homemade brownies for the gang. Everywhere she looked, there was a piece of Jess. The pink bedspread dotted with purple flowers, the vanilla scented candle on the nightstand beside the lavender hand cream. Even on the walls, where a poster of a younger, country-version of Taylor Swift and a hunkier Tim McGraw were taped side-by-side.

Hoyt must have his name on the deed, but this was definitely Jessica's home. Surrendering one's place to cater to someone's whim was true love right there.

Sookie sighed. If only she could find someone who would love her the same way Hoyt loved Jess.

She didn't dare check the small wooden closet and the drawers. Her friends deserved a modicum of privacy.

She plopped on the edge of the bed, which sagged and creaked under her weight, and noticed a couple of framed photos on the nightstand. One was a close-up of the couple, grinning from ear to ear, making Sookie smile to herself. She picked up the other one and chuckled.

"What's so funny?" Eric asked, marching inside while dragging his fingers through his wet hair.

Sookie jumped at his sudden arrival. Amid her snooping, she had lost track of everything else. She set the frame back to its former place and shrugged. "Nothin', just a trip down memory lane," she said nonchalantly as she rose from the bed.

A freshly showered Eric in a room with a mattress was a disaster waiting to happen.

Eric, wearing a pair of unfamiliar denim pants and gray shirt, strode over to her and snatched the picture frame from its cradle.

"Whoa! Is this you?"

Of course, in a photo with a dozen faces he'd find hers first.

"Yeah," she exhaled, fixing her gaze to the picture. "That was last year's Fourth of July party at Merlotte's. That's Jason right there standin' between Hoyt and Sam. There's Terry and Lafayette at the back. You remember Arlene, Dawn and Maudette? And that right there is Jess." She pointed at each of the faces, deliberately avoiding hers. "Sam sure knew how to get people together." Her voice cracked.

The thought of Merlotte's closing its doors for good was making her eyes water. She blinked back her tears as she peered at Eric, hoping he hadn't noticed.

"Yeah, he sure did," Eric agreed, staring solemnly at the image.

* * *

 **E/S**

Eric navigated the tiny kitchen like a pro. He was a revelation. Like watching an artist paint by numbers. Everything was done with surgical precision as though there was an invisible recipe he was following. Step by step he went, from chopping the vegetables to rolling the meat into perfect tiny balls. He barely even made small talk. She had seen him like this before - the night he called his friend in New York after their talk at the porch.

Eric with a purpose. Eric with a plan. Perhaps this was how Eric worked back in New York.

Perhaps this was what drove Sylvie away.

She shook off the notion as quickly as it came. No Sylvie today. Today, in this cabin, there was only Sookie and Eric. She'd worry about Sylvie tomorrow.

"Would you like some wine?" he asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.

"Sure." She smiled.

Eric poured her a glass of chilled Merlot in a coffee mug. "We don't have stemmed glass," he said apologetically. "At least it's not a red solo." He winked as he clinked his mug against hers and brought it to his lips.

Sookie was about to take a sip when her hand stopped mid-air. "Hey! You're not s'pposed to drink alcohol while you're on meds."

"I'm almost done with my antibiotics. 'Sides I'm all better now," he said smugly, tugging the hem of his shirt to expose his stitches. "I don't even need to dress it anymore, see?"

Sookie pushed herself off the chair and leaned forward on the breakfast counter to inspect his wound, which seemed to have closed up, the thread from the stitches were barely visible.

"It's actually itchy."

She pulled his shirt down as she sat back. The sight of his ripped abs was making her all hot and bothered.

"Itchin' is good. But you shouldn't push it, buddy. After this round, you're officially cut off," she chastised him.

Eric set down his mug and gave her a one-shoulder shrug. "Might as well. I can't get drunk anyway, you might take advantage of me."

Sookie narrowed her eyes and hurled a withered piece of arugula at him. He caught it with ease and popped it in his mouth, smirking.

Half an hour later, lunch was served. Five pieces of golden brown meatballs on a bed of gravy with pan-fried potatoes and carrots. Sookie's stomach growled at the smell wafting off her plate. She didn't bother to slice the ball in half before she forked it in her mouth. It was so damned delicious. It was hard to keep her eyes open while restraining herself from smacking her lips.

Eric watched her closely as she chomped the meat down. "So? What's the verdict?"

She couldn't lie. She gave him a thumb's up, bobbing her head in case he missed the stamp of approval.

Eric beamed, biting his lip. "See. Told you I can cook."

"You sure can," she quipped as she stuck her fork into another meatball. "You'd make a fine Southern wife."

Eric hooted with glee as he moved the other stool beside hers and sat down, their elbows grazing as they ate. "So, how's our date so far?" he asked.

"Not bad. Still too early to tell though, you might still pull something incredibly stupid later," Sookie said, swirling her meatball in a bed of gravy.

"Take it easy with the compliments you might hurt yourself," Eric countered.

Sookie laughed.

The silence that followed was amazingly comforting as they stuffed themselves. This felt so domestic, so idyllic. It reminded her of dinner at home when her parents were still alive. How her mom and dad would sit side by side at the table. There was never a need for idle conversations. Their mere presence was enough.

Eric finished his meal first. He twisted sideway in his chair to face her, swirling the wine mug in his hand. She could feel his eyes following her every movement. She felt immediately self-conscious.

"What?" She whirled her head toward him.

He shook his head smiling as his hand waved her off. "Please, keep doing what you're doing, don't mind me. I'm just having my dessert."

She flushed immediately. "You're really layin' it on thick, huh."

"I warned you, didn't I?"

They talked for what seemed like hours. Nothing heavy, mostly trivial. She told him stories about Jason and all his misadventures in dating before he met Crystal. They gossiped about Tara and Sam and the night she accidentally overheard Tara moan Sam's name in the trailer. She shuddered at the memory while Eric chuckled.

"I never - in my wildest dreams -thought they'd hook up. Well, I never thought Hoyt and Jess would either."

"Why not?" he asked, casually tracing the lines on her palm.

She shrugged, raising her cup to her lips with her free hand. "Jason and Jess had a fling. It was brief and casual. Turned out Hoyt had always had a thing for Jess but he kept it to himself because of Jason. But when Jase and Jess broke up, Hoyt couldn't keep it in anymore and decided to make his move. Jase was pissed. A week after Gran died, Jase and Hoyt had a huge fight. I'd never seen my brother so livid. He even insisted that we move away. It was crazy. Hoyt wanted to make peace, even his mom tried to talk to Jason but my brother was inconsolable. Stubborn as fuck."

"So it runs in the blood," Eric chimed in.

She rolled her eyes at him.

"When did they reconcile?"

"A few months ago," she replied. "I don't really know how it happened. Just came home one night and found a note sayin' he and Hoyt are goin' hunting. They were gone for a couple of days and when they came back it was as if they hadn't fought."

"All because they were in love with the same woman?"

"I suppose," she said with another shrug. "Guess some women are worth fight for."

Eric threaded his fingers with hers and kissed the back of her hand. "I know."

He gave her a look that made her heart flutter while praying to God that he meant her.

Eric also shared anecdotes of Godric and his outrageous hobby. How they almost got incarcerated for espionage in Beijing in his brother's quest to procure a first edition _Mao Zedong's Little Red Book_.

"We had to phone a friend who worked for the CIA to bail us out," he added, chortling.

Sookie insisted to do the dishes but Eric would have none of it. She sat by the counter, mug in hand, and watched with utter amusement as Eric figured out the intricacies involved in dish washing.

She couldn't help it. She snuck up beside him and said, "Need a hand?"

"No," he snapped, suds flying everywhere as he squeezed his soapy sponge. "I could use a back rub though." He punctuated it with a flirty waggle of his eyebrows.

She rolled her eyes at him. He peeled his gaze away from her and dipped his hands back in the sink. She snaked her arms around his middle - carefully avoiding his injury—and pressed her head against his broad back.

He stilled for a moment. Then she felt him relax beneath her grip. "That works too," he murmured.

She smiled as she listened to his heartbeat.

"If you're looking for my nipples you're way off," he joked.

She pinched him. "You're a perv," she retaliated. His body shook as he laughed.

"A little to the north," he said, never letting up.

"Don't you have an off switch?"

"Not with you, no."

She grinned broadly as she tightened her arms around him.

"Thank you," she hushed. "For this. For everything."

His heartbeat thumped a little louder. "You're not planning to dine and dash, are you?"

"I'm not goin' anywhere."

"Thank God. Because I don't think I have enough machismo to survive in this house."

She giggled. "I'm glad you brought me here."

"I'm glad you decided to stay. I was afraid you'd be disappointed."

"Are you kiddin'? I've had the best meal I've had in years and I didn't even need to do the dishes."

He snickered. "If I had known you'd be this easy to please I would've offered to do the dishes a lot sooner."

"If you had I would've told you I love you a lot sooner."

The words slipped out of her tongue before she could stop them.

They both stiffened. The sharp clang of a plate crashing against the other plates made her jump. Her arms went limp at the same instant Eric whipped his body toward her.

"What did you say?" he asked, his intense blue eyes pinning her.

She stared at his sudsy hands before she glanced behind him to inspect the dishes in the sink. "Did you hurt yourself?"

Eric ignored her query as he grabbed both sides of her face, forcing her to look at him. "What did you say?" he repeated his question, enunciating each word.

"Eric, you're getting me all soapy!" she squealed.

Eric only stared at her with the earnestness that made her knees go weak.

She sighed, her resistance sapped away. "I love you, Eric."

His chest rose as he let out a breath. "Say it one more time."

She bit her lip to suppress a smile before she said. "I love you."

He didn't even try to hold back his own grin before he grabbed her by the waist and hoisted her up to the breakfast bar. Her face was moist with soapy water and so was her dress but she couldn't seem to care as she giggled childishly.

He cupped her cheeks and flashed her a smile that could power the sun. "I love you, Sookie Stackhouse. So much. So damned much."

This time it was her who had to dip her head to capture his lips.

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own TB.**

 **So sorry for the delay. RL got in the way and the muse strayed to different directions. Directions, yes. Aside from the advent story I've written for Fangbangers Anonymous I also started writing a different fic. It's a little like Dead Man's Hand, set in Vegas with Sookie trying to hustle Eric. All the lovely reviews I've gotten for DMH had inspired me to write something along that line, but of course, different in many ways. Don't worry, I won't begin posting until I'm absolutely done with the draft to avoid making the same mistake of leaving it hanging for so long like I did for my other WIPs. There're two more chapters that had been betaed by the lovely MsStitcher for FH and I will try to post them as soon as I edit them. As for Slaying Dragons, the muse had taken quite a hiatus for that one so please bear with me - so many voices in my head and only two typing hands.**

 **So there, mindless rumbling over.**

 **Thank you for continuing to support this story despite my long absence. Reviews are love.**

 **Also to my rocking beta, MsStitcher, who keeps me sane when the going gets rough.**

 **I'd also like to give a shout out to everyone who PM'ed me just to let me know they're still around and waiting patiently. I love you guys, you know who you are!**

 **Much love!**


	34. Chapter 34

The dishes in the sink had long been forgotten as they made out like a couple of horny teenagers.

Eric scooped her up from the bar, lips locked of course, as though it would be a crime to pull away. He plopped them down on one of the wingback chairs with Sookie tucked in his lap and her arms wrapped around his neck. God, he could do this all day.

She was the first to break the kiss, making him grunt in protest. She tried to slide off his lap but he was quick to grab her waist.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, eyebrow arched.

"I'm gonna bust your stitches," she explained, wriggling.

"I don't care," he murmured, nipping the skin along her neck.

He was afraid he had gotten rusty but the soft moan that escaped her lips had chased away his concerns.

"Eric…" she mewed. Damn, if she kept saying his name like that something inside his pants would burst.

"Hmm?" he hummed, his fingers weaving through her hair, tugging at it gently as his mouth began its descent toward her collarbone.

"I'm ready for dessert now," she rasped.

His lips stilled as he drew back, gaping at her as his heart thumped in his throat. "I hope you mean sex because I only prepared two courses."

She smiled and bit her lower lip, her eyes hooded. "This would do," she husked, her hand slipping under his shirt to trace the muscles in his abs.

A tremor ran up his spine and he growled as his dick twitched inside his pants. "Don't you start something you can't finish Miss Stackhouse," he warned, breathing heavily.

She peeled herself off his lap and crossed her arms. "You sound scared, Mister Northman," she teased.

 _Fuck me_.

He slowly rose to standing, never breaking eye contact with her. She didn't take a step back to give him space and the close proximity only heightened his excitement. He pulled his shirt over his head and let it slide to the floor. If he weren't watching her closely he would have missed the way her eyes darted to his stomach before she bit her lower lip.

He had never felt so excited to be objectified.

"What now?" he asked.

"Let's make some bad decisions," she breathed out.

* * *

 **E/S**

 **SPOV**

By some miracle they made it to the bed, pieces of clothing trailing them to the bedroom like bread crumbs on the floor.

Eric was unpredictable. One second he was ripping her clothes off like they had insulted him, the next she he was laying her down gently on the bed like spun sugar. His fingers stroked the back of her neck delicately while he kissed her voraciously on the lips.

A whimper escaped her lips when Eric began sucking the skin on her shoulder. She could feel him trembling as he hovered above her, his eyes turning sapphire as he stared at her.

All her wet dreams and fantasies paled in comparison to this. She wondered if E.L. James had someone like Eric as her muse.

Sookie arched her back when Eric started kissing his way down to the space between her bosoms. He unhooked her bra and palmed one of her breasts as his mouth took care of the other. Her hips bucked underneath him as her nipples hardened and her core twisted.

She writhed beneath him as he began sliding downward, his long, deft fingers leading him to that special spot where only _'Alex'_ had the pleasure of visiting.

His torso vibrated against her as he groaned when he found the slickness between her thighs. "Ah fuck," he gritted as he bit her shoulder making her shiver.

"Eric…" _I'm a virgin._

The words got stuck in her throat as Eric began petting her breast again – his mouth warm against her prickled skin. Her lip caught between her teeth, she dug into his shoulder. She could feel herself getting so close. How embarrassing would it be if she came in his hand?

 _Cool it, woman!_

"Perfect," she heard him murmur. It didn't sound like lip service though. It sounded more like he was musing out loud.

Her head swirled from the praise and she allowed herself to smile. His lips moved south, placing open-mouthed kisses over her belly making her ache for more. Her vocabulary had been limited to shameless moans as Eric slid down, down, down.

"Fuck," Eric murmured in a strained voice.

Mustering enough courage, she forced her eyes open to look down. She could see the top of his head between her legs and the blood that rushed to her cheeks was instantaneous. He looped his arms around her thighs and dragged her toward the edge of the bed in one forceful tug punctuated by a growl that made her shudder.

She held on to the sheets, panting with anticipation.

She could feel Taylor Swift judging her on the wall.

She closed her eyes, her fingers clutching tightly on the bedspread as Eric dipped his head in her most intimate part.

"Oh god," she yelped as she gasped for air.

Whatever he was doing down there was making it hard for her to breathe.

"Eric…" she mewled, getting dangerously close to losing her mind.

 _Please, don't stop_ , she wanted to add. But the prude in her stopped her.

Every flick of his tongue made her clench her fist tighter and pant a little louder. She thought no one could please her more than herself. She had never been so wrong. Eric was in a league of his own. All she could do was bite her lip so hard to stop herself from screaming when she finally fell over the edge.

Eric held onto her thighs as he kept his mouth clamped onto her 'lips', intensifying the high of her orgasm.

Then just as her pulse was starting to return to normal he raised his head and kissed her hard on the lips. She could taste herself in his mouth and it was so goddamned erotic.

He straightened up and unzipped his pants. His eyes were dark with lust as he gazed at her, taking in every inch of her naked form. She should have felt exposed and nervous. But she wasn't. The look in his eyes was feral and the raw hunger in his face was oddly empowering. His chest was heaving up and down as he tore the condom foil with his teeth.

"You forgot to get dessert but you remembered to bring a pack of that," she teased, propping herself up, her elbows digging in the mattress.

"In my defense these came with me from New York."

 _Ouch._

"So technic'lly they're not really for me."

"Oh Sookie, I was never prepared for someone like you."

He peeled off his boxers and the enormity that sprung out of his underwear made her shudder. She swallowed hard, sizing up his… well, size.

Okay, this wasn't just some afternoon show, this was cable TV big. He was terrifyingly huge. She wondered if she'd be able to accommodate him.

He slipped the condom on and bent down to seize the back of her neck and kissed her greedily, dispelling her apprehension.

"I want you so bad," he groaned.

"No one's stoppin' you." With her arms entwined around his neck, she pulled him down with her as she lay back on the bed. She cradled his face, brushing the beads of sweat on his forehead. "I love you," she whispered.

"Remember that tomorrow when you're all sore and covered with hickeys because I don't think I can go easy on you anymore," he said and gave her another lingering kiss.

"Wait, you were goin' easy on me?" _Damn, I'm in so much trouble._

"I haven't had a decent sleep in two days," he quipped. "Imagine what I can do to you after I'm fully rested."

There was no rest for his wicked hands though as his fingers found her spot again with so much ease and stroked it lightly.

"Ready?"

The rational Sookie wanted to shake her head and say no, to tell him she was ah… hadn't been taken on a test drive before. But the wanton, lust-filled minx Eric had summoned with his unforgiving mouth wanted to flip him over and straddle him.

His finger swirled and flicked and the logical woman she once knew had thrown the towel and left the building.

"I'm ready," she whispered.

Eric's lips tugged to the side then ever so slowly he replaced his fingers with his hard cock.

His mouth captured her lips when he entered her, swallowing the yelp she wasn't able to hold.

Then he froze halfway in and pulled back.

Ah, shit. She wished he hadn't done that.

"Are you okay?" he said, the lines on his forehead deepened in concern as he swept back her hair.

She was wrong. She wasn't ready. It was painful - like being ripped apart by some powerful force.

Despite the pain, she bobbed her head, unable to trust herself not to squeak – or heaven forbid, weep. Eric seemed unconvinced, his face growing even more flushed.

She offered him a smile. "I'm alright," she said and with a deep breath she thrust her hips up slowly and felt him glide in deep into her inch by glorious inch.

Eric threw his head back as the bulging muscles around his biceps tightened. His teeth gnashed together as he clamped his hands around her hips.

"Stop, god, you have to stop," he gritted.

She stilled as her breath hitched. "Why?" Was she doing it wrong? She wouldn't know, she had no prior experience.

"Because you're gonna make me come so hard and so fast and I don't want that. I've wanted this so fucking much I don't want to make a fool of myself."

She heaved a sigh of relief.

Mercifully, the initial pain had subsided as she managed to adjust to his size smoothly. Now there was only pleasure. Sweet, sweet pleasure.

* * *

 **E/S**

 **EPOV**

 _This is how I'm gonna die. With my dick stiff as a rock inside this wicked woman._

He gasped when she ground her hips against his again, eyes rolling back to the back of his head as he growled in ecstasy.

"Ah fuck," he swallowed. "So fucking good."

He was gliding in and out of her languidly, rendered powerless to her ministration.

"Please Sookie!" he howled, tightening his grip on her. "I'm gonna come."

"Isn't that the point?" she asked, blinking in confusion.

 _Goddamn, was she playing me?_

Her legs curled around his waist, eyes locked onto his. This new position only made her tighter, something he never thought possible. _How could someone be so fucking tight?_

He didn't want to come yet. He'd want to stay inside her for as long as he could. Damn, he'd stay there forever if it were possible.

He captured her lips to calm himself down, to buy his overly excited cock more time inside her.

It didn't help. Her delicious, ravenous mouth only got him stiffer. Damn this woman. Damn my fucking volatile dick.

He started thrusting, slowly, dragging each push and pull with so much restraint. She held on to his shoulder, raking her nails at the length of his back.

He was close. Too close. His thrusts gained speed but Sookie found the way to catch up, lifting her hips to meet his and soon they were in perfect sync. The bed creaked in protest every time he pounded, the headboard thudding against the wall. He would have to find a way to convince Hoyt to sell him this whole goddamned cabin.

Sookie whimpered, her tits bouncing as he slammed into her. Her gaze steady on his face, her hair splayed on the mattress as she uttered his name over and over.

It was the best damn thing.

"Oh god, Eric!" she gasped before her spine arched and her eyes squeezed shut. He felt the first surge of contraction as she came. And that was it for him. He and his dick gave up the fight and relinquished what little control they had.

With a final drive of his hip, he plunged in to the hilt and let himself go.

* * *

 **E/S**

 **SPOV**

It was like she had run a full marathon. Endorphins siphoned into her system as she held onto yet another orgasm. Eric felt as if he weighed nothing at all as he crashed onto her, while nuzzling her neck. They were both slick with sweat and god knows what else.

"How are you so tight?" Eric rasped.

She almost asked, _'How are you so big?'_ But she didn't want their post-coital talk to sound like it was made for one of those cheap porns so she settled for, "I do kegels."

He laughed out loud, his massive chest quaking against her as she joined him in laughter.

"Have I told you how perfect you are?"

"Not quite enough."

"You are." He kissed her lips. "And if you can give me like ten, twenty minutes. I'll take a power nap and I'll show you just how perfect you are."

She giggled. "Make it thirty, I need to do another set of kegels."

"If you end up breaking my dick, promise me you'll call Doctor Ludwig instead of Doctor Super Ass."

"As if I'd let another woman touch that," she countered with a chuckle.

"I like seeing this side of you," he said, chortling as he peeled himself of her.

She was giving him a Cheshire grin as her gaze followed him. He was so goddamned beautiful it was as if someone had carved him from marble. Her heavy-lidded eyes snapped wide open when she saw the smear of blood against the V-shaped curve below his waist.

"Shit, Eric! You've busted your stitches!"

Eric bent his head and looked down, tracing the line of his injury with his palm. "This isn't my blood," he said, looking up.

There was a two-second pause before it dawned on her. She knew the exact moment he realized the same thing as his face blanched. Without thinking, she leapt off the bed and bolted to the bathroom.

"Shit, shit, shit!" she muttered under her breath as she pulled back the plastic shower curtain dotted with flower prints. She turned on the tap and almost shrieked when the cold water sprayed above her head.

She palmed her face, hoping the coldness would douse her flaming cheeks.

She was mortified. She should have anticipated this. Of course she'd bleed.

 _Stupid, stupid, Sookie._

She was still beating herself up that she didn't hear the sound of the bathroom door swinging open or the whoosh of the shower curtain. She only felt the strong arm wrapping around her waist grabbing her out off the stall, away from the freezing water. She was trapped in his arms, crushed against his warm torso.

"You were a virgin," he whispered into her ear, her back flat against him.

It wasn't a question so she didn't say anything in response.

"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked, whirling her around to face him.

She snapped her head to look at him, water rolling down her face.

She forced a smile. "Why? So I could up my price?" she quipped, trying hard to sound blithe.

His eyes darkened as the muscles around his jaw bunched. He didn't look amused.

"It ain't a big deal," she said, sweeping her palms over her forehead all the way to the back of her head to brush back the water.

"It was to me," he spat then threw his head back in frustration. "You're unbelievable. You're - you're - I don't know how your fucking mind works. Do you have any idea how many women tried to tell me they were virgins just so they could get something from me?"

"That's the thing, Eric. I don't need anything from you. I know exactly what this is, what we are."

His eyes narrowed into slit, his hold on her arms slackening. "What the hell does that mean?"

Her chest tightened and all of a sudden she felt exposed, raw, defenseless. "I'm sayin' I'm not deluded," she said, surprised at the steadiness of her voice. "I know sooner or later you'll have to go back to your real life. This is just my way of makin' sure you won't forget me so easily."

If she thought he looked pissed before, she hadn't seen nothing yet.

* * *

 **E/S**

 **EPOV**

It was like being kicked in the balls.

He let go of her completely, taking a couple of steps back until his back hit the damp tiles.

"Is that what this is?" he spat between his teeth. He couldn't believe that the same woman who gave him the fuck of the century could send him crashing down to earth in a single blow.

He told her he loved her, bared his fucking soul to her. And to her he was nothing but a spring break?

Well, fuck.

She must have sensed the anger simmering inside him because she, too, backpedalled to the stall, one arm draped across her chest to cover her breasts while the other dangled in front of her pussy.

Good, she should be scared.

"What I meant was…" she stuttered.

Oh, he knew exactly what she meant.

"I get it Sookie," he cut her off as he stalked her slowly. "You don't want anything from me because I'm nothing but a fucking segue to you." He laughed bitterly. "And all your friends thought _I_ was the asshole."

"Eric," she shook her head, "I didn't -"

 _Too late to explain now_ , he thought wildly before he came at her and seized both her hands, clasping them over her head. He backed her against the tiled wall. The water sprayed his back and with a flick of his free hand he turned the tap off.

He cupped her throat, tilting her chin up with his thumb to keep her from moving. He bit her lower lip then sucked it hard. She was a pain to hate, much more painful to love.

She moaned in his mouth and he felt his cock spring back to life. His hand slid smoothly down to her waist, pulling her flush to him so she could feel the hardness pulsing against her stomach. She whimpered as she pressed into him. He almost smiled. He pried his lips off hers and ran the pad of his thumb along her lower lip, red and swollen from his bite. He nudged her legs with his knee, spreading them before his hand glided down to her folds. She sucked in a breath as he stroked her.

She gasped, her eyes fluttering close.

"Open your eyes and look at me."

She did as she was told, spellbound by the magic weaved by his fingers. If she wanted to make a goddamned memory, then he'd give her something she wouldn't forget.

"Eric," she moaned, struggling against his grip as her hips gyrated for more friction, desperately seeking release. "Please," she begged.

Begging, he thought bitterly, that was a first. She was literally wrapped around his fingers. Releasing her hands, he dropped to his knees and buried his head between her thighs. Her knees buckled as she held on to his shoulders.

He devoured her, relishing the thought that no one had the luxury of tasting her before him. He thought he was a lucky bastard the first time they made love. He had no idea he was fucking gold.

She came in his mouth with a tremble and a barely muffled scream. He licked her clean and sucked the inside of her thigh before letting her go. He rose and kissed her on her lips.

"God, Eric," she panted, cheeks flushed. "What're you doin' to me?"

"This is just my way of making sure you won't forget me so easily," he threw her words back at her before he crushed his mouth over hers stopping whatever bullshit she might come up with again. "You and I, we'll never be done. Get that in that pretty head of yours. You denied me the pleasure of knowing I was your first then I'll just have to make sure I'll be your last."

* * *

 **A/N: I don't own Eric or TB.**

 **My loves, sorry I couldn't update as quickly as I hoped. My day job snuffed the energy out of me. I didn't even have time to reply to my gorgeous beta, ( _I love you, R, I'll write back to you soon!)_ and greet my eagle eye friend, KY, a happy birthday _(I owe you big, K!)_ If only someone would pay me to write about my fantasies. Alas, I have to go back to salt mines.**

 **Thank you for reading and sending your lovely thoughts. Reviews are love, my loves.**

 **As soon as I get the hang of all this new stuff going on in RL I'll post more regularly. I'm like Eric in a way, I need one hell of a power nap to recharge.**

 **Until next time! XO**


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